THE  SPOILS 
OF  POYNTOT 


H  HENRY  JRME5  J| 


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UNJVHU1IY  OF 


SANTA  CRUZ 


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HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO. 
BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK. 


The  Spoils  of  Poynton 


By 

Henry  James 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN   AND   COMPANY 


897 


Copyright,  1896, 
BY  HENRY  JAMES. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  &  Company. 


-RS 


THE   SPOILS    OF   POYNTON 


I 

MRS.  GERETH  had  said  she  would  go  with  the 
rest  to  church,  but  suddenly  it  seemed  to  her 
that  she  should  not  be  able  to  wait  even  till 
church-time  for  relief  :  breakfast,  at  Waterbath, 
was  a  punctual  meal,  and  she  had  still  nearly  an 
hour  on  her  hands.  Knowing  the  church  to  be 
near,  she  prepared  in  her  room  for  the  little 
rural  walk,  and  on  her  way  down  again,  passing 
through  corridors  and  observing  imbecilities  of 
decoration,  the  aesthetic  misery  of  the  big  com- 
modious house,  she  felt  a  return  of  the  tide  of 
last  night's  irritation,  a  renewal  of  everything  she 
could  secretly  suffer  from  ugliness  and  stupidity. 
Why  did  she  consent  to  such  contacts,  why  did 
she  so  rashly  expose  herself  ?  She  had  had, 
heaven  knew,  her  reasons,  but  the  whole  expe- 
rience was  to  be  sharper  than  she  had  feared. 
To  get  away  from  it  and  out  into  the  air,  into 
the  presence  of  sky  and  trees,  flowers  and  birds, 


2  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

was  a  necessity  of  every  nerve.  The  flowers  at 
Waterbath  would  probably  go  wrong  in  color 
and  the  nightingales  sing  out  of  tune  ;  but  she 
remembered  to  have  heard  the  place  described 
as  possessing  those  advantages  that  are  usually 
spoken  of  as  natural.  There  were  advantages 
enough  it  clearly  didn't  possess.  It  was  hard 
for  her  to  believe  that  a  woman  could  look  pre- 
sentable who  had  been  kept  awake  for  hours  by 
the  wall-paper  in  her  room  ;  yet  none  the  less,  as 
in  her  fresh  widow's  weeds  she  rustled  across  the 
hall,  she  was  sustained  by  the  consciousness, 
which  always  added  to  the  unction  of  her  social 
Sundays,  that  she  was,  as  usual,  the  only  person 
in  the  house  incapable  of  wearing  in  her  prepara- 
tion the  horrible  stamp  of  the  same  exceptional 
smartness  that  would  be  conspicuous  in  a  grocer's 
wife.  She  would  rather  have  perished  than  have 
looked  endimanchte. 

She  was  fortunately  not  challenged,  the  hall 
being  empty  of  the  other  women,  who  were 
engaged  precisely  in  arraying  themselves  to  that 
dire  end.  Once  in  the  grounds,  she  recognized 
that,  with  a  site,  a  view  that  struck  the  note,  set 
an  example  to  its  inmates,  Waterbath  ought  to 
have  been  charming.  How  she  herself,  with 
such  elements  to  handle,  would  have  taken  the 
fine  hint  of  nature  !  Suddenly,  at  the  turn  of  a 


THE   SPOILS   OF  POYNTON  3 

walk,  she  came  on  a  member  of  the  party,  a 
young  lady  seated  on  a  bench  in  deep  and  lonely 
meditation.  She  had  observed  the  girl  at  dinner 
and  afterwards  :  she  was  always  looking  at  girls 
with  an  apprehensive  or  speculative  reference  to 
her  son.  Deep  in  her  heart  was  a  conviction 
that  Owen  would,  in  spite  of  all  her  spells,  marry 
at  last  a  frump ;  and  this  from  no  evidence  that 
she  could  have  represented  as  adequate,  but 
simply  from  her  deep  uneasiness,  her  belief  that 
such  a  special  sensibility  as  her  own  could  have 
been  inflicted  on  a  woman  only  as  a  source  of 
anguish.  It  would  be  her  fate,  her  discipline,  her 
cross,  to  have  a  frump  brought  hideously  home 
to  her.  This  girl,  one  of  the  two  Vetches,  had 
no  beauty,  but  Mrs.  Gereth,  scanning  the  dull- 
ness for  a  sign  of  life,  had  been  straightway  able 
to  classify  such  a  figure  as  the  least,  for  the 
moment,  of  her  afflictions.  Fleda  Vetch  was 
dressed  with  an  idea,  though  perhaps  with  not 
much  else ;  and  that  made  a  bond  when  there 
was  none  other,  especially  as  in  this  case  the  idea 
was  real,  not  imitation.  Mrs.  Gereth  had  long 
ago  generalized  the  truth  that  the  temperament 
of  the  frump  is  amply  consistent  with  a  certain 
usual  prettiness.  There  were  five  girls  in  the 
party,  and  the  prettiness  of  this  one,  slim,  pale, 
and  black-haired,  was  less  likely  than  that  of  the 


4  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

others  ever  to  occasion  an  exchange  of  platitudes. 
The  two  less  developed  Brigstocks,  daughters  of 
the  house,  were  in  particular  tiresomely  "lovely." 
A  second  glance,  this  morning,  at  the  young 
lady  before  her  conveyed  to  Mrs.  Gereth  the 
soothing  assurance  that  she  also  was  guiltless  of 
looking  hot  and  fine.  They  had  had  no  talk  as 
yet,  but  this  was  a  note  that  would  effectually 
introduce  them  if  the  girl  should  show  herself  in 
the  least  conscious  of  their  community.  She  got 
up  from  her  seat  with  a  smile  that  but  partly 
dissipated  the  prostration  Mrs.  Gereth  had  recog- 
nized in  her  attitude.  The  elder  woman  drew  her 
down  again,  and  for  a  minute,  as  they  sat  to- 
gether, their  eyes  met  and  sent  out  mutual  sound- 
ings. "Are  you  safe?  Can  I  utter  it?"  each 
of  them  said  to  the  other,  quickly  recognizing, 
almost  proclaiming,  their  common  need  to  escape. 
The  tremendous  fancy,  as  it  came  to  be  called, 
that  Mrs.  Gereth  was  destined  to  take  to  Fleda 
Vetch  virtually  began  with  this  discovery  that 
the  poor  child  had  been  moved  to  flight  even 
more  promptly  than  herself.  That  the  poor 
child  no  less  quickly  perceived  how  far  she  could 
now  go  was  proved  by  the  immense  friendliness 
with  which  she  instantly  broke  out  :  "  Is  n't  it 
too  dreadful  ? " 

"  Horrible  —  horrible  !  "   cried     Mrs.     Gereth, 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  5 

with  a  laugh,  "  and  it 's  really  a  comfort  to  be 
able  to  say  it."  She  had  an  idea,  for  it  was  her 
ambition,  that  she  successfully  made  a  secret  of 
that  awkward  oddity,  her  proneness  to  be  ren- 
dered unhappy  by  the  presence  of  the  dreadful. 
Her  passion  for  the  exquisite  was  the  cause  of 
this,  but  it  was  a  passion  she  considered  that  she 
never  advertised  nor  gloried  in,  contenting  her- 
self with  letting  it  regulate  her  steps  and  show 
quietly  in  her  life,  remembering  at  all  times  that 
there  are  few  things  more  soundless  than  a  deep 
devotion.  She  was  therefore  struck  with  the 
acuteness  of  the  little  girl  who  had  already  put  a 
finger  on  her  hidden  spring.  What  was  dreadful 
now,  what  was  horrible,  was  the  intimate  ugliness 
of  Waterbath,  and  it  was  of  that  phenomenon 
these  ladies  talked  while  they  sat  in  the  shade 
and  drew  refreshment  from  the  great  tranquil  sky, 
from  which  no  blue  saucers  were  suspended.  It 
was  an  ugliness  fundamental  and  systematic,  the 
result  of  the  abnormal  nature  of  the  Brigstocks, 
from  whose  composition  the  principle  of  taste 
had  been  extravagantly  omitted.  In  the  arrange- 
ment of  their  home  some  other  principle,  re- 
markably active,  but  uncanny  and  obscure,  had 
operated  instead,  with  consequences  depressing 
to  behold,  consequences  that  took  the  form  of  a 
universal  futility.  The  house  was  bad  in  all  con- 


6  THE  SPOILS   OF  POYNTON 

science,  but  it  might  have  passed  if  they  had  only 
let  it  alone.  This  saving  mercy  was  beyond 
them ;  they  had  smothered  it  with  trumpery 
ornament  and  scrapbook  art,  with  strange  ex- 
crescences and  bunchy  draperies,  with  gimcracks 
that  might  have  been  keepsakes  for  maid-servants 
and  nondescript  conveniences  that  might  have 
been  prizes  for  the  blind.  They  had  gone  wildly 
astray  over  carpets  and  curtains  ;  they  had  an  in- 
fallible instinct  for  disaster,  and  were  so  cruelly 
doom-ridden  that  it  rendered  them  almost  tragic. 
Their  drawing-room,  Mrs.  Gereth  lowered  her 
voice  to  mention,  caused  her  face  to  burn,  and 
each  of  the  new  friends  confided  to  the  other 
that  in  her  own  apartment  she  had  given  way  to 
tears.  There  was  in  the  elder  lady's  a  set  of 
comic  water-colors,  a  family  joke  by  a  family 
genius,  and  in  the  younger' s  a  souvenir  from  some 
centennial  or  other  Exhibition,  that  they  shudder- 
ingly  alluded  to.  The  house  was  perversely  full 
of  souvenirs  of  places  even  more  ugly  than  itself 
and  of  things  it  would  have  been  a  pious  duty  to 
forget.  The  worst  horror  was  the  acres  of  var- 
nish, something  advertised  and  smelly,  with  which 
everything  was  smeared  ;  it  was  Fleda  Vetch's 
conviction  that  the  application  of  it,  by  their  own 
hands  and  hilariously  shoving  each  other,  was  the 
amusement  of  the  Brigstocks  on  rainy  days. 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTOK  f 

When,  as  criticism  deepened,  Fleda  dropped 
the  suggestion  that  some  people  would  perhaps 
see  something  in  Mona,  Mrs.  Gereth  caught  her 
up  with  a  groan  of  protest,  a  smothered  familiar 
cry  of  "  Oh,  my  dear  !  "  Mona  was  the  eldest  of 
the  three,  the  one  Mrs.  Gereth  most  suspected. 
She  confided  to  her  young  friend  that  it  was  her 
suspicion  that  had  brought  her  to  Waterbath  ; 
and  this  was  going  very  far,  for  on  the  spot,  as  a 
refuge,  a  remedy,  she  had  clutched  at  the  idea 
that  something  might  be  done  with  the  girl  be- 
fore her.  It  was  her  fancied  exposure  at  any 
rate  that  had  sharpened  the  shock  ;  made  her  ask 
herself  with  a  terrible  chill  if  fate  could  really  be 
plotting  to  saddle  her  with  a  daughter-in-law 
brought  up  in  such  a  place.  She  had  seen  Mona 
in  her  appropriate  setting  and  she  had  seen 
Owen,  handsome  and  heavy,  dangle  beside  her  ; 
but  the  effect  of  these  first  hours  had  happily  not 
been  to  darken  the  prospect.  It  was  clearer  to 
her  that  she  could  never  accept  Mona,  but  it  was 
after  all  by  no  means  certain  that  Owen  would 
ask  her  to.  He  had  sat  by  somebody  else  at  din- 
ner, and  afterwards  he  had  talked  to  Mrs.  Firmin, 
who  was  as  dreadful  as  all  the  rest,  but  redeem- 
ingly  married.  His  heaviness,  which  in  her  need 
of  expansion  she  freely  named,  had  two  aspects  : 
one  of  them  his  monstrous  lack  of  taste,  the  other 


8  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

his  exaggerated  prudence.  If  it  should  come  to 
a  question  of  carrying  Mona  with  a  high  hand 
there  would  be  no  need  to  worry,  for  that  was 
rarely  his  manner  of  proceeding. 

Invited  by  her  companion,  who  had  asked  if  it 
were  n't  wonderful,  Mrs.  Gereth  had  begun  to  say 
a  word  about  Poynton  ;  but  she  heard  a  sound  of 
voices  that  made  her  stop  short.  The  next  mo- 
ment she  rose  to  her  feet,  and  Fleda  could  see 
that  her  alarm  was  by  no  means  quenched.  Be- 
hind the  place  where  they  had  been  sitting  the 
ground  dropped  with  a  certain  steepness,  forming 
a  long  grassy  bank,  up  which  Owen  Gereth  and 
Mona  Brigstock,  dressed  for  church  but  making 
a  familiar  joke  of  it,  were  in  the  act  of  scrambling 
and  helping  each  other.  When  they  had  reached 
the  even  ground  Fleda  was  able  to  read  the 
meaning  of  the  exclamation  in  which  Mrs.  Gereth 
had  expressed  her  reserves  on  the  subject  of  Miss 
Brigstock's  personality.  Miss  Brigstock  had  been 
laughing  and  even  romping,  but  the  circumstance 
hadn't  contributed  the  ghost  of  an  expression  to 
her  countenance.  Tall,  straight  and  fair,  long- 
limbed  and  strangely  festooned,  she  stood  there 
without  a  look  in  her  eye  or  any  perceptible  in- 
tention of  any  sort  in  any  other  feature.  She 
belonged  to  the  type  in  which  speech  is  an  un- 
aided emission  of  sound  and  the  secret  of  being 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  9 

is  impenetrably  and  incorruptibly  kept.  Her  ex- 
pression would  probably  have  been  beautiful  if 
she  had  had  one,  but  whatever  she  communicated 
she  communicated,  in  a  manner  best  known  to 
herself,  without  signs.  This  was  not  the  case 
with  Owen  Gereth,  who  had  plenty  of  them,  and 
all  very  simple  and  immediate.  Robust  and  art- 
less, eminently  natural,  yet  perfectly  correct,  he 
looked  pointlessly  active  and  pleasantly  dull. 
Like  his  mother  and  like  Fleda  Vetch,  but  not 
for  the  same  reason,  this  young  pair  had  come 
out  to  take  a  turn  before  church. 

The  meeting  of  the  two  couples  was  sensibly 
awkward,  and  Fleda,  who  was  sagacious,  took  the 
measure  of  the  shock  inflicted  on  Mrs.  Gereth. 
There  had  been  intimacy  —  oh  yes,  intimacy  as 
well  as  puerility  —  in  the  horse-play  of  which 
they  had  just  had  a  glimpse.  The  party  began 
to  stroll  together  to  the  house,  and  Fleda  had 
again  a  sense  of  Mrs.  Gereth's  quick  management 
in  the  way  the  lovers,  or  whatever  they  were, 
found  themselves  separated.  She  strolled  behind 
with  Mona,  the  mother  possessing  herself  of  her 
son,  her  exchange  of  remarks  with  whom,  however, 
remained,  as  they  went,  suggestively  inaudible. 
That  member  of  the  party  in  whose  intenser 
consciousness  we  shall  most  profitably  seek  a 
reflection  of  the  little  drama  with  which  we  are 


10  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

concerned  received  an  even  livelier  impression  of 
Mrs.  Gereth's  intervention  from  the  fact  that  ten 
minutes  later,  on  the  way  to  church,  still  another 
pairing  had  been  effected.  Owen  walked  with 
Fleda,  and  it  was  an  amusement  to  the  girl  to 
feel  sure  that  this  was  by  his  mother's  direction. 
Fleda  had  other  amusements  as  well :  such  as 
noting  that  Mrs.  Gereth  was  now  with  Mona 
Brigstock ;  such  as  observing  that  she  was  all 
affability  to  that  young  woman ;  such  as  reflecting 
that,  masterful  and  clever,  with  a  great  bright 
spirit,  she  was  one  of  those  who  impose  them- 
selves as  an  influence ;  such  as  feeling  finally  that 
Owen  Gereth  was  absolutely  beautiful  and  de- 
lightfully dense.  This  young  person  had  even 
from  herself  wonderful  secrets  of  delicacy  and 
pride  ;  but  she  came  as  near  distinctness  as  in 
the  consideration  of  such  matters  she  had  ever 
come  at  all  in  now  surrendering  herself  to  the 
idea  that  it  was  of  a  pleasant  effect  and  rather 
remarkable  to  be  stupid  without  offense  —  of  a 
pleasanter  effect  and  more  remarkable  indeed 
than  to  be  clever  and  horrid.  Owen  Gereth  at 
any  rate,  with  his  inches,  his  features,  and  his 
lapses,  was  neither  of  these  latter  things.  She 
herself  was  prepared,  if  she  should  ever  marry,  to 
contribute  all  the  cleverness,  and  she  liked  to 
think  that  her  husband  would  be  a  force  grateful 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  II 

for  direction.  She  was  in  her  small  way  a  spirit 
of  the  same  family  as  Mrs.  Gereth.  On  that 
flushed  and  huddled  Sunday  a  great  matter  oc- 
curred ;  her  little  life  became  aware  of  a  singular 
quickening.  Her  meagre  past  fell  away  from  her 
like  a  garment  of  the  wrong  fashion,  and  as  she 
came  up  to  town  on  the  Monday  what  she  stared 
at  in  the  suburban  fields  from  the  train  was  a 
future  full  of  the  things  she  particularly  loved. 


II 

THESE  were  neither  more  nor  less  than  the 
things  with  which  she  had  had  time  to  learn  from 
Mrs.  Gereth  that  Poynton  overflowed.  Poynton, 
in  the  south  of  England,  was  this  lady's  estab- 
lished, or  rather  her  disestablished  home,  having 
recently  passed  into  the  possession  of  her  son. 
The  father  of  the  boy,  an  only  child,  had  died 
two  years  before,  and  in  London,  with  his  mother, 
Owen  was  occupying  for  May  and  June  a  house 
good-naturedly  lent  them  by  Colonel  Gereth, 
their  uncle  and  brother-in-law.  His  mother  had 
laid  her  hand  so  engagingly  on  Fleda  Vetch  that 
in  a  very  few  days  the  girl  knew  it  was  possible 
they  should  suffer  together  in  Cadogan  Place 
almost  as  much  as  they  had  suffered  together  at 
Waterbath.  The  kind  colonel's  house  was  also 
an  ordeal,  but  the  two  women,  for  the  ensuing 
month,  had  at  least  the  relief  of  their  confessions. 
The  great  drawback  of  Mrs.  Gereth's  situation 
was  that,  thanks  to  the  rare  perfection  of  Poyn- 
ton, she  was  condemned  to  wince  wherever  she 
turned.  She  had  lived  for  a  quarter  of  a  century 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  13 

in  such  warm  closeness  with  the  beautiful  that, 
as  she  frankly  admitted,  life  had  become  for  her 
a  kind  of  fool's  paradise.  She  could  n't  leave  her 
own  house  without  peril  of  exposure.  She  did  n't 
say  it  in  so  many  words,  but  Fleda  could  see  she 
held  that  there  was  nothing  in  England  really  to 
compare  to  Poynton.  There  were  places  much 
grander  and  richer,  but  there  was  no  such  com- 
plete work  of  art,  nothing  that  would  appeal  so 
to  those  who  were  really  informed.  In  putting 
such  elements  into  her  hand  fortune  had  given 
her  an  inestimable  chance ;  she  knew  how  rarely 
well  things  had  gone  with  her  and  that  she  had 
tasted  a  happiness  altogether  rare. 

There  had  been  in  the  first  place  the  exquisite 
old  house  itself,  early  Jacobean,  supreme  in  every 
part :  it  was  a  provocation,  an  inspiration,  a 
matchless  canvas  for  the  picture.  Then  there 
had  been  her  husband's  sympathy  and  generosity, 
his  knowledge  and  love,  their  perfect  accord  and 
beautiful  life  together,  twenty-six  years  of  plan- 
ning and  seeking,  a  long,  sunny  harvest  of  taste 
and  curiosity.  Lastly,  she  never  denied,  there 
had  been  her  personal  gift,  the  genius,  the  pas- 
sion, the  patience  of  the  collector  —  a  patience, 
an  almost  infernal  cunning,  that  had  enabled  her 
to  do  it  all  with  a  limited  command  of  money. 
There  would  n't  have  been  money  enough  for  any 


14  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

one  else,  she  said  with  pride,  but  there  had  been 
money  enough  for  her.  They  had  saved  on  lots 
of  things  in  life,  and  there  were  lots  of  things 
they  had  n't  had,  but  they  had  had  in  every  cor- 
ner of  Europe  their  swing  among  the  Jews.  It 
was  fascinating  to  poor  Fleda,  who  had  n't  a 
penny  in  the  world  nor  anything  nice  at  home, 
and  whose  only  treasure  was  her  subtle  mind,  to 
hear  this  genuine  English  lady,  fresh  and  fair, 
young  in  the  fifties,  declare  with  gayety  and  con- 
viction that  she  was  herself  the  greatest  Jew  who 
had  ever  tracked  a  victim.  Fleda,  with  her 
mother  dead,  had  n't  so  much  even  as  a  home, 
and  her  nearest  chance  of  one  was  that  there  was 
some  appearance  her  sister  would  become  en- 
gaged to  a  curate  whose  eldest  brother  was  sup- 
posed to  have  property  and  would  perhaps  allow 
him  something.  Her  father  paid  some  of  her 
bills,  but  he  did  n't  like  her  to  live  with  him  ;  and 
she  had  lately,  in  Paris,  with  several  hundred 
other  young  women,  spent  a  year  in  a  studio, 
arming  herself  for  the  battle  of  life  by  a  course 
with  an  impressionist  painter.  She  was  deter- 
mined to  work,  but  her  impressions,  or  some- 
body's else,  were  as  yet  her  only  material.  Mrs. 
Gereth  had  told  her  she  liked  her  because  she 
had  an  extraordinary  flair ;  but  under  the  cir- 
cumstances a  flair  was  a  questionable  boon  :  in 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTOtf  15 

the  dry  places  in  which  she  had  mainly  moved 
she  could  have  borne  a  chronic  catarrh.  She 
was  constantly  summoned  to  Cadogan  Place,  and 
before  the  month  was  out  was  kept  to  stay,  to 
pay  a  visit  of  which  the  end,  it  was  agreed,  should 
have  nothing  to  do  with  the  beginning.  She 
had  a  sense,  partly  exultant  and  partly  alarmed, 
of  having  quickly  become  necessary  to  her  impe- 
rious friend,  who  indeed  gave  a  reason  quite  suffi- 
cient for  it  in  telling  her  there  was  nobody  else 
who  understood.  From  Mrs.  Gereth  there  was 
in  these  days  an  immense  deal  to  understand, 
though  it  might  be  freely  summed  up  in  the  cir- 
cumstance that  she  was  wretched.  She  told 
Fleda  that  she  could  n't  completely  know  why 
till  she  should  have  seen  the  things  at  Poynton. 
Fleda  could  perfectly  grasp  this  connection, 
which  was  exactly  one  of  the  matters  that,  in 
their  inner  mystery,  were  a  blank  to  everybody 
else. 

The  girl  had  a  promise  that  the  wonderful 
house  should  be  shown  her  early  in  July,  when 
Mrs.  Gereth  would  return  to  it  as  to  her  home  ; 
but  even  before  this  initiation  she  put  her  finger 
on  the  spot  that  in  the  poor  lady's  troubled  soul 
ached  hardest.  This  was  the  misery  that  haunted 
her,  the  dread  of  the  inevitable  surrender.  What 
Fleda  had  to  sit  up  to  was  the  confirmed  appear- 


1 6  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

ance  that  Owen  Gereth  would  marry  Mona  Brig- 
stock,  marry  her  in  his  mother's  teeth,  and  that 
such  an  act  would  have  incalculable  bearings. 
They  were  present  to  Mrs.  Gereth,  her  compan- 
ion could  see,  with  a  vividness  that  at  moments 
almost  ceased  to  be  that  of  sanity.  She  would 
have  to  give  up  Poynton,  and  give  it  up  to  a  pro- 
duct of  Waterbath  —  that  was  the  wrong  that 
rankled,  the  humiliation  at  which  Fleda  would  be 
able  adequately  to  shudder  only  when  she  should 
know  the  place.  She  did  know  Waterbath,  and 
she  despised  it  —  she  had  that  qualification  for 
sympathy.  Her  sympathy  was  intelligent,  for 
she  read  deep  into  the  matter  ;  she  stared,  aghast, 
as  it  came  home  to  her  for  the  first  time,  at  the 
cruel  English  custom  of  the  expropriation  of  the 
lonely  mother.  Mr.  Gereth  had  apparently  been 
a  very  amiable  man,  but  Mr.  Gereth  had  left 
things  in  a  way  that  made  the  girl  marvel.  The 
house  and  its  contents  had  been  treated  as  a 
single  splendid  object ;  everything  was  to  go 
straight  to  his  son,  and  his  widow  was  to  have  a 
maintenance  and  a  cottage  in  another  county. 
No  account  whatever  had  been  taken  of  her  rela- 
tion to  her  treasures,  of  the  passion  with  which 
she  had  waited  for  them,  worked  for  them,  picked 
them  over,  made  them  worthy  of  each  other  and 
the  house,  watched  them,  loved  them,  lived  with 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  17 

them.  He  appeared  to  have  assumed  that  she 
would  settle  questions  with  her  son,  that  he  could 
depend  upon  Owen's  affection.  And  in  truth,  as 
poor  Mrs.  Gereth  inquired,  how  could  he  possibly 
have  had  a  prevision  —  he  who  turned  his  eyes 
instinctively  from  everything  repulsive  —  of  any- 
thing so  abnormal  as  a  Waterbath  Brigstock  ?  He 
had  been  in  ugly  houses  enough,  but  had  escaped 
that  particular  nightmare.  Nothing  so  perverse 
could  have  been  expected  to  happen  as  that  the 
heir  to  the  loveliest  thing  in  England  should  be 
inspired  to  hand  it  over  to  a  girl  so  exceptionally 
tainted.  Mrs.  Gereth  spoke  of  poor  Mona's  taint 
as  if  to  mention  it  were  almost  a  violation  of 
decency,  and  a  person  who  had  listened  without 
enlightenment  would  have  wondered  of  what 
fault  the  girl  had  been  or  had  indeed  not  been 
guilty.  But  Owen  had  from  a  boy  never  cared, 
had  never  had  the  least  pride  or  pleasure  in  his 
home. 

"Well,  then,  if  he  doesn't  care!"  —  Fleda 
exclaimed,  with  some  impetuosity ;  stopping 
short,  however,  before  she  completed  her  sen- 
tence. 

Mrs.  Gereth  looked  at  her  rather  hard.  "If 
he  does  n't  care  ?  " 

Fleda  hesitated ;  she  had  not  quite  had  a  defi- 
nite idea.  "  Well  —  he  '11  give  them  up." 


1 8  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

"  Give  what  up  ?  " 

"Why,  those  beautiful  things." 

"  Give  them  up  to  whom  ? "  Mrs.  Gereth  more 
boldly  stared. 

"To  you,  of  course  —  to  enjoy,  to  keep  for 
yourself." 

"  And  leave  his  house  as  bare  as  your  hand  ? 
There  's  nothing  in  it  that  is  n't  precious." 

Fleda  considered ;  her  friend  had  taken  her 
up  with  a  smothered  ferocity  by  which  she  was 
slightly  disconcerted.  "I  don't  mean  of  course 
that  he  should  surrender  everything ;  but  he 
might  let  you  pick  out  the  things  to  which  you  're 
most  attached." 

"  I  think  he  would  if  he  were  free,"  said  Mrs. 
Gereth. 

"  And  do  you  mean,  as  it  is,  that  she  '11  pre- 
vent him?"  Mona  Brigstock,  between  these 
ladies,  was  now  nothing  but  "she." 

"  By  every  means  in  her  power." 

"  But  surely  not  because  she  understands  and 
appreciates  them  ? " 

"No,"  Mrs.  Gereth  replied,  "but  because  they 
belong  to  the  house  and  the  house  belongs  to 
Owen.  If  I  should  wish  to  take  anything,  she 
would  simply  say,  with  that  motionless  mask  : 
*  It  goes  with  the  house.'  And  day  after  day,  in 
the  face  of  every  argument,  of  every  considera- 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  19 

tion  of  generosity,  she  would  repeat,  without 
winking,  in  that  voice  like  the  squeeze  of  a  doll's 
stomach  :  '  It  goes  with  the  house  —  it  goes  with 
the  house.'  In  that  attitude  they'll  shut  them- 
selves up." 

Fleda  was  struck,  was  even  a  little  startled 
with  the  way  Mrs.  Gereth  had  turned  this  over  — 
had  faced,  if  indeed  only  to  recognize  its  futility, 
the  notion  of  a  battle  with  her  only  son.  These 
words  led  her  to  make  an  inquiry  which  she  had 
not  thought  it  discreet  to  make  before;  she 
brought  out  the  idea  of  the  possibility,  after  all, 
of  her  friend's  continuing  to  live  at  Poynton. 
Would  they  really  wish  to  proceed  to  extremi- 
ties ?  Was  no  good-humored,  graceful  compro- 
mise to  be  imagined  or  brought  about  ?  Could  n't 
the  same  roof  cover  them  ?  Was  it  so  very  in- 
conceivable that  a  married  son  should,  for  the 
rest  of  her  days,  share  with  so  charming  a  mother 
the  home  she  had  devoted  more  than  a  score  of 
years  to  making  beautiful  for  him  ?  Mrs.  Gereth 
hailed  this  question  with  a  wan,  compassionate 
smile;  she  replied  that  a  common  household,  in 
such  a  case,  was  exactly  so  inconceivable  that 
Fleda  had  only  to  glance  over  the  fair  face  of  the 
English  land  to  see  how  few  people  had  ever 
conceived  it.  It  was  always  thought  a  wonder,  a 
"  mistake,"  a  piece  of  overstrained  sentiment ; 


20  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

and  she  confessed  that  she  was  as  little  capable 
of  a  flight  of  that  sort  as  Owen  himself.  Even 
if  they  both  had  been  capable,  they  would  still 
have  Mona's  hatred  to  reckon  with.  Fleda's 
breath  was  sometimes  taken  away  by  the  great 
bounds  and  elisions  which,  on  Mrs.  Gereth's  lips, 
the  course  of  discussion  could  take.  This  was 
the  first  she  had  heard  of  Mona's  hatred,  though 
she  certainly  had  not  needed  Mrs.  Gereth  to  tell 
her  that  in  close  quarters  that  young  lady  would 
prove  secretly  mulish.  Later  Fleda  perceived 
indeed  that  perhaps  almost  any  girl  would  hate 
a  person  who  should  be  so  markedly  averse  to 
having  anything  to  do  with  her.  Before  this, 
however,  in  conversation  with  her  young  friend, 
Mrs.  Gereth  furnished  a  more  vivid  motive  for 
her  despair  by  asking  how  she  could  possibly  be 
expected  to  sit  there  with  the  new  proprietors 
and  accept  —  or  call  it,  for  a  day,  endure  —  the 
horrors  they  would  perpetrate  in  the  house. 
Fleda  reasoned  that  they  would  n't  after  all 
smash  things  nor  burn  them  up  ;  and  Mrs.  Gereth 
admitted  when  pushed  that  she  did  n't  quite  sup- 
pose they  would.  What  she  meant  was  that  they 
would  neglect  them,  ignore  them,  leave  them  to 
clumsy  servants  (there  wasn't  an  object  of  them 
all  but  should  be  handled  with  perfect  love),  and 
in  many  cases  probably  wish  to  replace  them  by 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  21 

pieces  answerable  to  some  vulgar  modern  notion 
of  the  convenient.  Above  all,  she  saw  in  ad- 
vance, with  dilated  eyes,  the  abominations  they 
would  inevitably  mix  up  with  them  —  the  mad- 
dening relics  of  Waterbath,  the  little  brackets 
and  pink  vases,  the  sweepings  of  bazaars,  the 
family  photographs  and  illuminated  texts,  the 
"  household  art  "  and  household  piety  of  Mona's 
hideous  home.  Was  n't  it  enough  simply  to  con- 
tend that  Mona  would  approach  Poynton  in  the 
spirit  of  a  Brigstock,  and  that  in  the  spirit  of  a 
Brigstock  she  would  deal  with  her  acquisition  ? 
Did  Fleda  really  see  her,  Mrs.  Gereth  demanded, 
spending  the  remainder  of  her  days  with  such  a 
creature's  elbow  in  her  eye  ? 

Fleda  had  to  declare  that  she  certainly  did  n't, 
and  that  Waterbath  had  been  a  warning  it  would 
be  frivolous  to  overlook.  At  the  same  time  she 
privately  reflected  that  they  were  taking  a  great 
deal  for  granted,  and  that,  inasmuch  as  to  her 
knowledge  Owen  Gereth  had  positively  denied  his 
betrothal,  the  ground  of  their  speculations  was 
by  no  means  firm.  It  seemed  to  our  young  lady 
that  in  a  difficult  position  Owen  conducted  him- 
self with  some  natural  art ;  treating  this  domesti- 
cated confidant  of  his  mother's  wrongs  with  a 
simple  civility  that  almost  troubled  her  con- 
science, so  deeply  she  felt  that  she  might  have 
had  for  him  the  air  of  siding  with  that  lady 


22  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

against  him.  She  wondered  if  he  would  ever 
know  how  little  really  she  did  this,  and  that  she 
was  there,  since  Mrs.  Gereth  had  insisted,  not  to 
betray,  but  essentially  to  confirm  and  protect. 
The  fact  that  his  mother  disliked  Mona  Brigstock 
might  have  made  him  dislike  the  object  of  her 
preference,  and  it  was  detestable  to  Fleda  to 
remember  that  she  might  have  appeared  to  him 
to  offer  herself  as  an  exemplary  contrast.  It 
was  clear  enough,  however,  that  the  happy  youth 
had  no  more  sense  for  a  motive  than  a  deaf  man 
for  a  tune,  a  limitation  by  which,  after  all,  she 
could  gain  as  well  as  lose.  He  came  and  went 
very  freely  on  the  business  with  which  London 
abundantly  furnished  him,  but  he  found  time 
more  than  once  to  say  to  her,  "  It 's  awfully  nice 
of  you  to  look  after  poor  Mummy."  As  well  as 
his  quick  speech,  which  shyness  made  obscure  — 
it  was  usually  as  desperate  as  a  "  rush  "  at  some 
violent  game  —  his  child's  eyes  in  his  man's  face 
put  it  to  her  that,  you  know,  this  really  meant  a 
good  deal  for  him  and  that  he  hoped  she  would 
stay  on.  With  a  person  in  the  house  who,  like 
herself,  was  clever,  poor  Mummy  was  conven- 
iently occupied  ;  and  Fleda  found  a  beauty  in  the 
candor  and  even  in  the  modesty  which  appar- 
ently kept  him  from  suspecting  that  two  such 
wiseheads  could  possibly  be  occupied  with  Owen 
Gereth. 


Ill 

THEY  went  at  last,  the  wiseheads,  down  to 
Poynton,  where  the  palpitating  girl  had  the  full 
revelation.  "Now  do  you  know  how  I  feel?" 
Mrs.  Gereth  asked  when  in  the  wonderful  hall, 
three  minutes  after  their  arrival,  her  pretty 
associate  dropped  on  a  seat  with  a  soft  gasp  and 
a  roll  of  dilated  eyes.  The  answer  came  clearly 
enough,  and  in  the  rapture  of  that  first  walk 
through  the  house  Fleda  took  a  prodigious  span. 
She  perfectly  understood  how  Mrs.  Gereth  felt  — 
she  had  understood  but  meagrely  before;  and 
the  two  women  embraced  with  tears  over  the 
tightening  of  their  bond  —  tears  which  on  the 
younger  one's  part  were  the  natural  and  usual 
sign  of  her  submission  to  perfect  beauty.  It  was 
not  the  first  time  she  had  cried  for  the  joy  of 
admiration,  but  it  was  the  first  time  the  mistress 
of  Poynton,  often  as  she  had  shown  her  house, 
had  been  present  at  such  an  exhibition.  She 
exulted  in  it ;  it  quickened  her  own  tears ;  she 
assured  her  companion  that  such  an  occasion 
made  the  poor  old  place  fresh  to  her  again  and 


24  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

more  precious  than  ever.  Yes,  nobody  had  ever, 
that  way,  felt  what  she  had  achieved :  people 
were  so  grossly  ignorant,  and  everybody,  even 
the  knowing  ones,  as  they  thought  themselves, 
more  or  less  dense.  What  Mrs.  Gereth  had 
achieved  was  indeed  an  exquisite  work;  and  in 
such  an  art  of  the  treasure-hunter,  in  selection 
and  comparison  refined  to  that  point,  there  was 
an  element  of  creation,  of  personality.  She  had 
commended  Fleda's  flair,  and  Fleda  now  gave 
herself  up  to  satiety.  Preoccupations  and 
scruples  fell  away  from  her ;  she  had  never 
known  a  greater  happiness  than  the  week  she 
passed  in  this  initiation. 

Wandering  through  clear  chambers  where  the 
general  effect  made  preferences  almost  as  impos- 
sible as  if  they  had  been  shocks,  pausing  at  open 
doors  where  vistas  were  long  and  bland,  she 
would,  even  if  she  had  not  already  known,  have 
discovered  for  herself  that  Poynton  was  the 
record  of  a  life.  It  was  written  in  great  syllables 
of  color  and  form,  the  tongues  of  other  countries 
and  the  hands  of  rare  artists.  It  was  all  France 
and  Italy,  with  their  ages  composed  to  rest.  For 
England  you  looked  out  of  old  windows  —  it  was 
England  that  was  the  wide  embrace.  While  out- 
side, on  the  low  terraces,  she  contradicted  gar- 
deners and  refined  on  nature,  Mrs.  Gereth  left 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  2$ 

her  guest  to  finger  fondly  the  brasses  that  Louis 
Quinze  might  have  thumbed,  to  sit  with  Venetian 
velvets  just  held  in  a  loving  palm,  to  hang  over 
cases  of  enamels  and  pass  and  repass  before 
cabinets.  There  were  not  many  pictures  —  the 
panels  and  the  stuffs  were  themselves  the  pic- 
ture ;  and  in  all  the  great  wainscoted  house  there 
was  not  an  inch  of  pasted  paper.  What  struck 
Fleda  most  in  it  was  the  high  pride  of  her  friend's 
taste,  a  fine  arrogance,  a  sense  of  style  which, 
however  amused  and  amusing,  never  compromised 
nor  stooped.  She  felt  indeed,  as  this  lady  had 
intimated  to  her  that  she  would,  both  a  respect 
and  a  compassion  that  she  had  not  known  before ; 
the  vision  of  the  coming  surrender  filled  her  with 
an  equal  pain.  To  give  it  all  up,  to  die  to  it  — 
that  thought  ached  in  her  breast.  She  herself 
could  imagine  clinging  there  with  a  closeness 
separate  from  dignity.  To  have  created  such  a 
place  was  to  have  had  dignity  enough ;  when 
there  was  a  question  of  defending  it  the  fiercest 
attitude  was  the  right  one.  After  so  intense  a 
taking  of  possession  she  too  was  to  give  it  up  ; 
for  she  reflected  that  if  Mrs.  Gereth's  remaining 
there  would  have  offered  her  a  sort  of  future  — 
stretching  away  in  safe  years  on  the  other  side  of 
a  gulf  —  the  advent  of  the  others  could  only  be, 
by  the  same  law,  a  great  vague  menace,  the 


26  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

ruffling  of  a  still  water.  Such  were  the  emotions 
of  a  hungry  girl  whose  sensibility  was  almost  as 
great  as  her  opportunities  for  comparison  had 
been  small.  The  museums  had  done  something 
for  her,  but  nature  had  done  more. 

If  Owen  had  not  come  down  with  them  nor 
joined  them  later,  it  w,as  because  he  still  found 
London  jolly ;  yet  the  question  remained  of 
whether  the  jollity  of  London  was  not  merely  the 
only  name  his  small  vocabulary  yielded  for  the 
jollity  of  Mona  Brigstock.  There  was  indeed  in 
his  conduct  another  ambiguity  —  something  that 
required  explaining  so  long  as  his  motive  did  n't 
come  to  the  surface.  If  he  was  in  love,  what  was 
the  matter  ?  And  what  was  the  matter  still  more 
if  he  was  n't  ?  The  mystery  was  at  last  cleared 
up :  this  Fleda  gathered  from  the  tone  in  which, 
one  morning  at  breakfast,  a  letter  just  opened 
made  Mrs.  Gereth  cry  out.  Her  dismay  was 
almost  a  shriek  :  "  Why,  he 's  bringing  her  down 
—  he  wants  her  to  see  the  house  !  "  They  flew, 
the  two  women,  into  each  other's  arms  and,  with 
their  heads  together,  soon  made  out  that  the 
reason,  the  baffling  reason  why  nothing  had  yet 
happened,  was  that  Mona  did  n't  know,  or  Owen 
did  n't,  whether  Poynton  would  really  please  her. 
She  was  coming  down  to  judge ;  and  could  any- 
thing in  the  world  be  more  like  poor  Owen  than 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  2J 

the  ponderous  probity  which  had  kept  him  from 
pressing  her  for  a  reply  till  she  should  have 
learned  whether  she  approved  what  he  had  to 
offer  her  ?  That  was  a  scruple  it  had  naturally 
been  impossible  to  impute.  If  only  they  might 
fondly  hope,  Mrs.  Gereth  wailed,  that  the  girl's 
expectations  would  be  dashed  !  There  was  a  fine 
consistency,  a  sincerity  quite  affecting,  in  her 
arguing  that  the  better  the  place  should  happen 
to  look  and  to  express  the  conceptions  to  which  it 
owed  its  origin,  the  less  it  would  speak  to  an 
intelligence  so  primitive.  How  could  a  Brigstock 
possibly  understand  what  it  was  all  about  ?  How, 
really,  could  a  Brigstock  logically  do  anything  but 
hate  it  ?  Mrs.  Gereth,  even  as  she  whisked  away 
linen  shrouds,  persuaded  herself  of  the  possibility 
on  Mona's  part  of  some  bewildered  blankness, 
some  collapse  of  admiration  that  would  prove  dis- 
concerting to  her  swain  —  a  hope  of  which  Fleda 
at  least  could  see  the  absurdity  and  which  gave 
the  measure  of  the  poor  lady's  strange,  almost 
maniacal  disposition  to  thrust  in  everywhere  the 
question  of  "  things,"  to  read  all  behavior  in  the 
light  of  some  fancied  relation  to  them.  "  Things  " 
were  of  course  the  sum  of  the  world;  only,  for 
Mrs.  Gereth,  the  sum  of  the  world  was  rare 
French  furniture  and  Oriental  china.  She  could 
at  a  stretch  imagine  people's  not  having,  but  she 


28  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

could  n't  imagine  their  not  wanting  and  not  miss- 
ing. 

The  young  couple  were  to  be  accompanied  by 
Mrs.  Brigstock,  and  with  a  prevision  of  how 
fiercely  they  would  be  watched  Fleda  became 
conscious,  before  the  party  arrived,  of  an  amused, 
diplomatic  pity  for  them.  Almost  as  much  as 
Mrs.  Gereth's  her  taste  was  her  life,  but  her  life 
was  somehow  the  larger  for  it.  Besides,  she  had 
another  care  now :  there  was  some  one  she 
would  n't  have  liked  to  see  humiliated  even  in  the 
form  of  a  young  lady  who  would  contribute  to  his 
never  suspecting  so  much  delicacy.  When  this 
young  lady  appeared  Fleda  tried,  so  far  as  the 
wish  to  efface  herself  allowed,  to  be  mainly  the 
person  to  take  her  about,  show  her  the  house,  and 
cover  up  her  ignorance.  Owen's  announcement 
had  been  that,  as  trains  made  it  convenient,  they 
would  present  themselves  for  luncheon  and  depart 
before  dinner ;  but  Mrs.  Gereth,  true  to  her  sys- 
tem of  glaring  civility,  proposed  and  obtained  an 
extension,  a  dining  and  spending  of  the  night. 
She  made  her  young  friend  wonder  against  what 
rebellion  of  fact  she  was  sacrificing  in  advance  so 
profusely  to  form.  Fleda  was  appalled,  after  the 
first  hour,  by  the  rash  innocence  with  which  Mona 
had  accepted  the  responsibility  of  observation, 
and  indeed  by  the  large  levity  with  which,  sitting 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  29 

there  like  a  bored  tourist  in  fine  scenery,  she 
exercised  it.  She  felt  in  her  nerves  the  effect  of 
such  a  manner  on  her  companion's,  and  it  was 
this  that  made  her  want  to  entice  the  girl  away, 
give  her  some  merciful  warning  or  some  jocular 
cue.  Mona  met  intense  looks,  however,  with  eyes ' 
that  might  have  been  blue  beads,  the  only  ones 
she  had  —  eyes  into  which  Fleda  thought  it 
strange  Owen  Gereth  should  have  to  plunge  for 
his  fate  and  his  mother  for  a  confession  of  whether 
Poynton  was  a  success.  She  made  no  remark 
that  helped  to  supply  this  light ;  her  impression 
at  any  rate  had  nothing  in  common  with  the  feel- 
ing that,  as  the  beauty  of  the  place  throbbed  out 
like  music,  had  caused  Fleda  Vetch  to  burst  into 
tears.  She  was  as  content  to  say  nothing  as  if, 
Mrs.  Gereth  afterwards  exclaimed,  she  had  been 
keeping  her  mouth  shut  in  a  railway-tunnel.  Mrs. 
Gereth  contrived  at  the  end  of  an  hour  to  convey 
to  Fleda  that  it  was  plain  she  was  brutally  igno- 
rant ;  but  Fleda  more  subtly  discovered  that  her 
ignorance  was  obscurely  active. 

She  was  not  so  stupid  as  not  to  see  that  some- 
thing, though  she  scarcely  knew  what,  was  ex- 
pected of  her  that  she  could  n't  give  ;  and  the  only 
mode  her  intelligence  suggested  of  meeting  the 
expectation  was  to  plant  her  big  feet  and  pull 
another  way.  Mrs.  Gereth  wanted  her  to  rise, 


3O  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTOAT 

somehow  or  somewhere,  and  was  prepared  to  hate 
her  if  she  did  n't :  very  well,  she  could  n't,  she 
would  n't  rise  ;  she  already  moved  at  the  altitude 
that  suited  her,  and  was  able  to  see  that,  since  she 
was  exposed  to  the  hatred,  she  might  at  least 
enjoy  the  calm.  The  smallest  trouble,  for  a  girl 
with  no  nonsense  about  her,  was  to  earn  what  she 
incurred ;  so  that,  a  dim  instinct  teaching  her  she 
would  earn  it  best  by  not  being  effusive,  and 
combining  with  the  conviction  that  she  now  held 
Owen,  and  therefore  the  place,  she  had  the 
pleasure  of  her  honesty  as  well  as  of  her  security. 
Did  n't  her  very  honesty  lead  her  to  be  belliger- 
ently blank  about  Poynton,  inasmuch  as  it  was 
just  Poynton  that  was  forced  upon  her  as  a  sub- 
ject for  effusiveness?  Such  subjects,  to  Mona 
Brigstock,  had  an  air  almost  of  indecency,  and  the 
house  became  uncanny  to  her  through  such  an 
appeal  —  an  appeal  that,  somewhere  in  the  twi- 
light of  her  being,  as  Fleda  was  sure,  she  thanked 
heaven  she  was  the  girl  stiffly  to  draw  back  from. 
She  was  a  person  whom  pressure  at  a  given  point 
infallibly  caused  to  expand  in  the  wrong  place 
instead  of,  as  it  is  usually  administered  in  the  hope 
of  doing,  the  right  one.  Her  mother,  to  make  up 
for  this,  broke  out  universally,  pronounced  every- 
thing "  most  striking,"  and  was  visibly  happy  that 
Owen's  captor  should  be  so  far  on  the  way  to 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  31 

strike :  but  she  jarred  upon  Mrs.  Gereth  by  her 
formula  of  admiration,  which  was  that  anything 
she  looked  at  was  "in  the  style"  of  something 
else.  This  was  to  show  how  much  she  had  seen, 
but  it  only  showed  she  had  seen  nothing ;  every- 
thing at  Poynton  was  in  the  style  of  Poynton, 
and  poor  Mrs.  Brigstock,  who  at  least  was  deter- 
mined to  rise,  and  had  brought  with  her  a  trophy 
of  her  journey,  a  "  lady's  magazine  "  purchased  at 
the  station,  a  horrible  thing  with  patterns  for 
antimacassars,  which,  as  it  was  quite  new,  the  first 
number,  and  seemed  so  clever,  she  kindly  offered 
to  leave  for  the  house,  was  in  the  style  of  a  vulgar 
old  woman  who  wore  silver  jewelry  and  tried  to 
pass  off  a  gross  avidity  as  a  sense  of  the  beautiful. 
By  the  day's  end  it  was  clear  to  Fleda  Vetch 
that,  however  Mona  judged,  the  day  had  been 
determinant ;  whether  or  no  she  felt  the  charm, 
she  felt  the  challenge  :  at  an  early  moment  Owen 
Gereth  would  be  able  to  tell  his  mother  the  worst. 
Nevertheless,  when  the  elder  lady,  at  bedtime, 
coming  in  a  dressing-gown  and  a  high  fever  to 
the  younger  one's  room,  cried  out,  "She  hates  it; 
but  what  will  she  do  ? "  Fleda  pretended  vague- 
ness, played  at  obscurity  and  assented  disingen- 
uously to  the  proposition  that  they  at  least  had  a 
respite.  The  future  was  dark  to  her,  but  there 
was  a  silken  thread  she  could  clutch  in  the  gloom 


32  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

—  she  would  never  give  Owen  away.  He  might 
give  himself  —  he  even  certainly  would  ;  but  that 
was  his  own  affair,  and  his  blunders,  his  inno- 
cence, only  added  to  the  appeal  he  made  to  her. 
She  would  cover  him,  she  would  protect  him,  and 
beyond  thinking  her  a  cheerful  inmate  he  would 
never  guess  her  intention,  any  more  than,  beyond 
thinking  her  clever  enough  for  anything,  his 
acute  mother  would  discover  it.  From  this  hour, 
with  Mrs.  Gereth,  there  was  a  flaw  in  her  frank- 
ness :  her  admirable  friend  continued  to  know 
everything  she  did  ;  what  was  to  remain  unknown 
was  the  general  motive. 

From  the  window  of  her  room,  the  next  morn- 
ing before  breakfast,  the  girl  saw  Owen  in  the 
garden  with  Mona,  who  strolled  beside  him  with 
a  listening  parasol,  but  without  a  visible  look  for 
the  great  florid  picture  that  had  been  hung  there 
by  Mrs.  Gereth's  hand.  Mona  kept  dropping  her 
eyes,  as  she  walked,  to  catch  the  sheen  of  her 
patent-leather  shoes,  which  resembled  a  man's 
and  which  she  kicked  forward  a  little  —  it  gave 
her  an  odd  movement  —  to  help  her  see  what  she 
thought  of  them.  When  Fleda  came  down  Mrs. 
Gereth  was  in  the  breakfast-room  ;  and  at  that 
moment  Owen,  through  a  long  window,  passed  in 
alone  from  the  terrace  and  very  endearingly  kissed 
his  mother.  It  immediately  struck  the  girl  that 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON-  33 

» 

she  was  in  their  way,  for  had  n't  he  been  borne 
on  a  wave  of  joy  exactly  to  announce,  before  the 
Brigstocks  departed,  that  Mona  had  at  last  fal- 
tered out  the  sweet  word  he  had  been  waiting 
for  ?  He  shook  hands  with  his  friendly  violence, 
but  Fleda  contrived  not  to  look  into  his  face  : 
^what  she  liked  most  to  see  in  it  was  not  the  re- 
flection of  Mona's  big  boot-toes.  She  could  bear 
well  enough  that  young  lady  herself,  but  she 
could  n't  bear  Owen's  opinion  of  her.  She  was 
on  the  point  of  slipping  into  the  garden  when 
the  movement  was  checked  by  Mrs.  Gereth's 
suddenly  drawing  her  close,  as  if  for  the  morning 
embrace,  and  then,  while  she  kept  her  there  with 
the  bravery  of  the  night's  repose,  breaking  out : 
"  Well,  my  dear  boy,  what  does  your  young  friend 
there  make  of  our  odds  and  ends  ? " 
"  Oh,  she  thinks  they  're  all  right ! " 
Fleda  immediately  guessed  from  his  tone  that 
he  had  not  come  in  to  say  what  she  supposed  ; 
there  was  even  something  in  it  to  confirm  Mrs. 
Gereth's  belief  that  their  danger  had  dropped. 
She  was  sure,  moreover,  that  his  tribute  to 
Mona's  taste  was  a  repetition'  of  the  eloquent 
words  in  which  the  girl  had  herself  recorded  it ; 
she  could  indeed  hear,  with  all  vividness,  the 
pretty  passage  between  the  pair.  "Don't  you 
think  is 's  rather  jolly,  the  old  shop  ? "  "  Oh,  it 's 


34  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

all  right ! "  Mona  had  graciously  remarked  ;  and 
then  they  had  probably,  with  a  slap  on  a  back, 
run  another  race  up  or  down  a  green  bank. 
Fleda  knew  Mrs.  Gereth  had  not  yet  uttered  a 
word  to  her  son  that  would  have  shown  him  how 
much  she  feared ;  but  it  was  impossible  to  feel 
her  friend's  arm  round  her  and  not  become  aware 
that  this  friend  was  now  throbbing  with  a  strange 
intention.  Owen's  reply  had  scarcely  been  of  a 
nature  to  usher  in  a  discussion  of  Mona's  sensi- 
bilities ;  but  Mrs.  Gereth  went  on,  in  a  moment, 
with  an  innocence  of  which  Fleda  could  measure 
the  cold  hypocrisy  :  "  Has  she  any  sort  of  feeling 
for  nice  old  things  ?"  The  question  was  as  fresh 
as  the  morning  light. 

"Oh,  of  course  she  likes  everything  that's 
nice."  And  Owen,  who  constitutionally  disliked 
questions — an  answer  was  almost  as  hateful  to 
him  as  a  "trick"  to  a  big  dog  —  smiled  kindly  at 
Fleda  and  conveyed  that  she  would  understand 
what  he  meant  even  if  his  mother  did  n't.  Fleda, 
however,  mainly  understood  that  Mrs.  Gereth, 
with  an  odd,  wild  laugh,  held  her  so  hard  that 
she  hurt  her. 

"I  could  give  up  everything  without  a  pang,  I 
think,  to  a  person  I  could  trust,  I  could  respect." 
The  girl  heard  her  voice  tremble  under  the  effort 
to  show  nothing  but  what  she  wanted  to  show, 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  35 

and  felt  the  sincerity  of  her  implication  that  the 
piety  most  real  to  her  was  to  be  on  one's  knees 
before  one's  high  standard.  "The  best  things 
here,  as  you  know,  are  the  things  your  father 
and  I  collected,  things  all  that  we  worked  for 
and  waited  for  and  suffered  for.  Yes,"  cried 
Mrs.  Gereth,  with  a  fine  freedom  of  fancy,  "  there 
are  things  in  the  house  that  we  almost  starved 
for  !  They  were  our  religion,  they  were  our  life, 
they  were  us  !  And  now  they  're  only  me  —  ex- 
cept that  they  're  also  you,  thank  God,  a  little, 
you  dear !  "  she  continued,  suddenly  inflicting  on 
Fleda  a  kiss  apparently  intended  to  knock  her 
into  position.  "  There  is  n't  one  of  them  I  don't 
know  and  love  —  yes,  as  one  remembers  and 
cherishes  the  happiest  moments  of  one's  life. 
Blindfold,  in  the  dark,  with  the  brush  of  a  finger, 
I  could  tell  one  from  another.  They  're  living 
things  to  me ;  they  know  me,  they  return  the 
touch  of  my  hand.  But  I  could  let  them  all  go, 
since  I  have  to,  so  strangely,  to  another  affection, 
another  conscience.  There  's  a  care  they  want, 
there  's  a  sympathy  that  draws  out  their  beauty. 
Rather  than  make  them  over  to  a  woman  ignorant 
and  vulgar,  I  think  I  'd  deface  them  with  my  own 
hands.  Can't  you  see  me,  Fleda,  and  would  n't 
you  do  it  yourself  ?  "  —  she  appealed  to  her  com- 
panion with  glittering  eyes.  "  I  could  n't  bear 


36  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

the  thought  of  such  a  woman  here  —  I  could  n't. 
I  don't  know  what  she  'd  do ;  she  'd  be  sure  to  in- 
vent some  deviltry,  if  it  should  be  only  to  bring 
in  her  own  little  belongings  and  horrors.  The 
world  is  full  of  cheap  gimcracks,  in  this  awful 
age,  and  they  're  thrust  in  at  one  at  every  turn. 
They  'd  be  thrust  in  here,  on  top  of  my  treasures, 
my  own.  Who  would  save  them  for  me  —  I  ask 
you  who  would?"  and  she  turned  again  to  Fleda 
with  a  dry,  strained  smile.  Her  handsome,  high- 
nosed,  excited  face  might  have  been  that  of  Don 
Quixote  tilting  at  a  windmill.  Drawn  into  the 
eddy  of  this  outpouring,  the  girl,  scared  and  em- 
barrassed, laughed  off  her  exposure ;  but  only  to 
feel  herself  more  passionately  caught  up  and,  as 
it  seemed  to  her,  thrust  down  the  fine  open  mouth 
(it  showed  such  perfect  teeth)  with  which  poor 
Owen's  slow  cerebration  gaped.  "  You  would, 
of  course  —  only  you,  in  all  the  world,  because 
you  know,  you  feel,  as  I  do  myself,  what 's  good 
and  true  and  pure."  No  severity  of  the  moral 
law  could  have  taken  a  higher  tone  in  this  impli- 
cation of  the  young  lady  who  had  not  the  only 
virtue  Mrs.  Gereth  actively  esteemed.  "  You 
would  replace  me,  you  would  watch  over  them, 
you  would  keep  the  place  right,"  she  austerely 
pursued,  "  and  with  you  here  —  yes,  with  you,  I 
believe  I  might  rest,  at  last,  in  my  grave  !  "  She 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  37 

threw  herself  on  Fleda's  neck,  and  before  Fleda, 
horribly  shamed,  could  shake  her  off,  had  burst 
into  tears  which  could  n't  have  been  explained, 
but  which  might  perhaps  have  been  understood. 


IV 

A  WEEK  later  Owen  Gereth  came  down  to  in- 
form his  mother  that  he  had  settled  with  Mona 
Brigstock;  but  it  was  not  at  all  a  joy  to  Fleda, 
conscious  how  much  to  himself  it  would  be  a 
surprise,  that  he  should  find  her  still  in  the 
house.  That  dreadful  scene  before  breakfast  had 
made  her  position  false  and  odious ;  it  had  been 
followed,  after  they  were  left  alone,  by  a  scene  of 
her  own  making  with  her  extravagant  friend. 
She  notified  Mrs.  Gereth  of  her  instant  depart- 
ure :  she  could  n't  possibly  remain  after  being 
offered  to  Owen,  that  way,  before  her  very  face, 
as  his  mother's  candidate  for  the  honor  of  his 
hand.  That  was  all  he  could  have  seen  in  such 
an  outbreak  and  in  the  indecency  of  her  standing 
there  to  enjoy  it.  Fleda  had  on  the  prior  occa- 
sion dashed  out  of  the  room  by  the  shortest 
course  and  in  her  confusion  had  fallen  upon  Mona 
in  the  garden.  She  had  taken  an  aimless  turn 
with  her,  and  they  had  had  some  talk,  rendered 
at  first  difficult  and  almost  disagreeable  by 
Mona's  apparent  suspicion  that  she  had  been  sent 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  39 

out  to  spy,  as  Mrs.  Gereth  had  tried  to  spy,  into 
her  opinions.  Fleda  was  sagacious  enough  to 
treat  these  opinions  as  a  mystery  almost  awful ; 
which  had  an  effect  so  much  more  than  reassur- 
ing that  at  the  end  of  five  minutes  the  young  lady 
from  Waterbath  suddenly  and  perversely  said  : 
"  Why  has  she  never  had  a  winter  garden  thrown 
out  ?  If  ever  I  have  a  place  of  my  own  I  mean 
to  have  one."  Fleda,  dismayed,  could  see  the 
thing  —  something  glazed  and  piped,  on  iron 
pillars,  with  untidy  plants  and  cane  sofas ;  a 
shiny  excrescence  on  the  noble  face  of  Poynton. 
She  remembered  at  Waterbath  a  conservatory 
where  she  had  caught  a  bad  cold  in  the  company 
of  a  stuffed  cockatoo  fastened  to  a  tropical  bough 
and  a  waterless  fountain  composed  of  shells  stuck 
into  some  hardened  paste.  She  asked  Mona  if 
her  idea  would  be  to  make  something  like  this 
conservatory  ;  to  which  Mona  replied  :  "  Oh  no, 
much  finer ;  we  have  n't  got  a  winter,  garden  at 
Waterbath."  Fleda  wondered  if  she  meant  to 
convey  that  it  was  the  only  grandeur  they  lacked, 
and  in  a  moment  Mona  went  on  :  "  But  we  have 
got  a  billiard-room  —  that  I  will  say  for  us  ! " 
There  was  no  billiard-room  at  Poynton,  but  there 
would  evidently  be  one,  and  it  would  have,  hung 
on  its  walls,  framed  at  the  "  Stores,"  caricature- 
portraits  of  celebrities,  taken  from  a  "  society- 
paper." 


4O  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

When  the  two  girls  had  gone  in  to  breakfast  it 
was  for  Fleda  to  see  at  a  glance  that  there  had 
been  a  further  passage,  of  some  high  color, 
between  Owen  and  his  mother ;  and  she  had 
turned  pale  in  guessing  to  what  extremity,  at  her 
expense,  Mrs.  Gereth  had  found  occasion  to  pro- 
ceed. Had  n't  she,  after  her  clumsy  flight,  been 
pressed  upon  Owen  in  still  clearer  terms  ?  Mrs. 
Gereth  would  practically  have  said  to  him  :  "  If 
you  '11  take  her,  I  '11  move  away  without  a  sound. 
But  if  you  take  any  one  else,  any  one  I  'm  not 
sure  of,  as  I  am  of  her  —  heaven  help  me,  I  '11 
fight  to  the  death ! "  Breakfast,  this  morning, 
at  Poynton,  had  been  a  meal  singularly  silent, 
in  spite  of  the  vague  little  cries  with  which  Mrs. 
Brigstock  turned  up  the  underside  of  plates  and 
the  knowing  but  alarming  raps  administered  by 
her  big  knuckles  to  porcelain  cups.  Some  one 
had  to  respond  to  her,  and  the  duty  assigned 
itself  to  Fleda,  who,  while  pretending  to  meet  her 
on  the  ground  of  explanation,  wondered  what 
Owen  thought  of  a  girl  still  indelicately  anxious, 
after  she  had  been  grossly  hurled  at  him,  to 
prove  by  exhibitions  of  her  fine  taste  that  she 
was  really  what  his  mother  pretended.  This 
time,  at  any  rate,  their  fate  was  sealed  :  Owen,  as 
soon  as  he  should  get  out  of  the  house,  would 
describe  to  Mona  that  lady's  extraordinary  con- 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  41 

duct,  and  if  anything  more  had  been  wanted  to 
"  fetch  "  Mona,  as  he  would  call  it,  the  deficiency 
was  now  made  up.  Mrs.  Gereth  in  fact  took  care 
of  that  —  took  care  of  it  by  the  way,  at  the  last, 
on  the  threshold,  she  said  to  the  younger  of  her 
departing  guests,  with  an  irony  of  which  the  sting 
was  wholly  in  the  sense,  not  at  all  in  the  sound : 
"We  haven't  had  the  talk  we  might  have  had, 
have  we  ?  You  '11  feel  that  I  Ve  neglected  you, 
and  you'll  treasure  it  up  against  me.  Don't, 
because  really,  you  know,  it  has  been  quite  an 
accident,  and  I  Ve  all  sorts  of  information  at  your 
disposal.  If  you  should  come  down  again  (only 
you  won't,  ever,  —  I  feel  that ! )  I  should  give 
you  plenty  of  time  to  worry  it  out  of  me.  Indeed 
there  are  some  things  I  should  quite  insist  on 
your  learning;  not  permit  you  at  all,  in  any 
settled  way,  not  to  learn.  Yes  indeed,  you'd 
put  me  through,  and  I  should  put  you,  my  dear ! 
We  should  have  each  other  to  reckon  with,  and 
you  would  see  me  as  I  really  am.  I  'm  not  a  bit 
the  vague,  mooning,  easy  creature  I  dare  say  you 
think.  However,  if  you  won't  come,  you  won't ; 
rien  parlons  plus.  It  is  stupid  here  after  what 
you  're  accustomed  to.  We  can  only,  all  round, 
do  what  we  can,  eh  ?  For  heaven's  sake,  don't 
let  your  mother  forget  her  precious  publication, 
the  female  magazine,  with  the  what-do-you-call- 
'em  ?  —  the  grease-catchers.  There !  " 


42  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

Mrs.  Gereth,  delivering  herself  from  the  door- 
step, had  tossed  the  periodical  higher  in  air  than 
was  absolutely  needful  —  tossed  it  toward  the 
carriage  the  retreating  party  was  about  to  enter. 
Mona,  from  the  force  of  habit,  the  reflex  action 
of  the  custom  of  sport,  had  popped  out,  with  a 
little  spring,  a  long  arm  and  intercepted  the 
missile  as  easily  as  she  would  have  caused  a 
tennis-ball  to  rebound  from  a  racket.  "Good 
catch  !  "  Owen  had  cried,  so  genuinely  pleased 
that  practically  no  notice  was  taken  of  his 
mother's  impressive  remarks.  It  was  to  the 
accompaniment  of  romping  laughter,  as  Mrs. 
Gereth  afterwards  said,  that  the  carriage  had 
rolled  away ;  but  it  was  while  that  laughter  was 
still  in  the  air  that  Fleda  Vetch,  white  and  terri- 
ble, had  turned  upon  her  hostess  with  her  scorch- 
ing "How  could  you?  Great  God,  how  could 
you?"  This  lady's  perfect  blankness  was  from 
the  first  a  sign  of  her  serene  conscience,  and  the 
fact  that  till  indoctrinated  she  did  n't  even  know 
what  Fleda  meant  by  resenting  her  late  offense  to 
every  susceptibility  gave  our  young  woman  a  sore, 
scared  perception  that  her  own  value  in  the 
house  was  just  the  value,  as  one  might  say,  of  a 
good  agent.  Mrs.  Gereth  was  generously  sorry, 
but  she  was  still  more  surprised  —  surprised  at 
Fleda's  not  having  liked  to  be  shown  off  to  Owen 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  43 

as  the  right  sort  of  wife  for  him.  Why  not,  in 
the  name  of  wonder,  if  she  absolutely  was  the 
right  sort  ?  She  had  admitted  on  explanation 
that  she  could  see  what  her  young  friend  meant 
by  having  been  laid,  as  Fleda  called  it,  at  his 
feet;  but  it  struck  the  girl  that  the  admission 
was  only  made  to  please  her,  and  that  Mrs. 
Gereth  was  secretly  surprised  at  her  not  being  as 
happy  to  be  sacrificed  to  the  supremacy  of  a  high 
standard  as  she  was  happy  to  sacrifice  her.  She 
had  taken  a  tremendous  fancy  to  her,  but  that 
was  on  account  of  the  fancy  —  to  Poynton  of 
course  —  Fleda  herself  had  taken.  Was  n't  this 
latter  fancy  then  so  great  after  all  ?  Fleda  felt 
that  she  could  declare  it  to  be  great  indeed  when 
really  for  the  sake  of  it  she  could  forgive  what 
she  had  suffered  and,  after  reproaches  and  tears, 
asseverations  and  kisses,  after  learning  that  she 
was  cared  for  only  as  a  priestess  of  the  altar  and 
a  view  of  her  bruised  dignity  which  left  no  alter- 
native to  flight,  could  accept  the  shame  with  the 
balm,  consent  not  to  depart,  take  refuge  in  the 
thin  comfort  of  at  least  knowing  the  truth.  The 
truth  was  simply  that  all  Mrs.  Gereth' s  scruples 
were  on  one  side  and  that  her  ruling  passion  had 
in  a  manner  despoiled  her  of  her  humanity.  On 
the  second  day,  after  the  tide  of  emotion  had 
somewhat  ebbed,  she  said  soothingly  to  her  com- 


44  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

panion  :  "  But  you  would,  after  all,  marry  him, 
you  know,  darling,  would  n't  you,  if  that  girl  were 
not  there  ?  I  mean  of  course  if  he  were  to  ask 
you,"  Mrs.  Gereth  had  thoughtfully  added. 

"Marry  him  if  he  were  to  ask  me?  Most 
distinctly  not ! " 

The  question  had  not  come  up  with  this  defi- 
niteness  before,  and  Mrs.  Gereth  was  clearly  more 
surprised  than  ever.  She  marveled  a  moment. 
"  Not  even  to  have  Poynton  ? " 

"Not  even  to  have  Poynton." 

"  But  why  on  earth  ?  "  Mrs.  Gereth's  sad  eyes 
were  fixed  on  her. 

Fleda  colored  ;  she  hesitated.  "  Because  he 's 
too  stupid ! "  Save  on  one  other  occasion,  at 
which  we  shall  in  time  arrive,  little  as  the  reader 
may  believe  it,  she  never  came  nearer  to  betray- 
ing to  Mrs.  Gereth  that  she  was  in  love  with 
Owen.  She  found  a  dim  amusement  in  reflecting 
that  if  Mona  had  not  been  there  and  he  had  not 
been  too  stupid  and  he  verily  had  asked  her,  she 
might,  should  she  have  wished  to  keep  her  secret, 
have  found  it  possible  to  pass  off  the  motive  of 
her  action  as  a  mere  passion  for  Poynton. 

Mrs.  Gereth  evidently  thought  in  these  days  of 
little sbut  things  hymeneal ;  for  she  broke  out  with 
sudden  rapture,  in  the  middle  of  the  week  :  "  I 
know  what  they  '11  do  :  they  will  marry,  but  they'll 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  45 

go  and  live  at  Waterbath  !  "  There  was  positive 
joy  in  that  form  of  the  idea,  which  she  embroi- 
dered and  developed :  it  seemed  so  much  the 
safest  thing  that  could  happen.  "  Yes,  I  '11  have 
you,  but  I  won't  go  there  !  "  Mona  would  have  said 
with  a  vicious  nod  at  the  southern  horizon  :  "  we'll 
leave  your  horrid  mother  alone  there  for  life." 
It  would  be  an  ideal  solution,  this  ingress  the 
lively  pair,  with  their  spiritual  need  of  a  warmer 
medium,  would  playfully  punch  in  the  ribs  of  her 
ancestral  home ;  for  it  would  not  only  prevent 
recurring  panic  at  Poynton  —  it  would  offer  them, 
as  in  one  of  their  gimcrack  baskets  or  other 
vessels  of  ugliness,  a  definite  daily  felicity  that 
Poynton  could  never  give.  Owen  might  manage 
his  estate  just  as  he  managed  it  now,  and  Mrs. 
Gereth  would  manage  everything  else.  When,  in 
the  hall,  on  the  unforgettable  day  of  his  return, 
she  had  heard  his  voice  ring  out  like  a  call  to  a 
terrier,  she  had  still,  as  Fleda  afterwards  learned, 
clutched  frantically  at  the  conceit  that  he  had 
come,  at  the  worst,  to  announce  some  compro- 
mise ;  to  tell  her  she  would  have  to  put  up  with 
the  girl,  yes,  but  that  some  way  would  be  arrived 
at  of  leaving  her  in  personal  possession.  Fleda 
Vetch,  whom  from  the  first  hour  no  illusion  had 
brushed  with  its  wing,  now  held  her  breath,  went 
on  tiptoe,  wandered  in  outlying  parts  of  the  house 


46  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

and  through  delicate,  muffled  rooms,  while  the 
mother  and  son  faced  each  other  below.  From 
time  to  time  she  stopped  to  listen ;  but  all  was  so 
quiet  she  was  almost  frightened  :  she  had  vaguely 
expected  a  sound  of  contention.  It  lasted  longer 
than  she  would  have  supposed,  whatever  it  was 
they  were  doing  ;  and  when  finally,  from  a  window, 
she  saw  Owen  stroll  out  of  the  house,  stop  and 
light  a  cigarette  and  then  pensively  lose  himself 
in  the  plantations,  she  found  other  matter  for 
trepidation  in  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Gereth  did  n't 
immediately  come  rushing  up  into  her  arms.  She 
wondered  whether  she  oughtn't  to  go  down  to 
her,  and  measured  the  gravity  of  what  had  oc- 
curred by  the  circumstance,  which  she  presently 
ascertained,  that  the  poor  lady  had  retired  to  her 
room  and  wished  not  to  be  disturbed.  This 
admonition  had  been  for  her  maid,  with  whom 
Fleda  conferred  as  at  the  door  of  a  death-chamber ; 
but  the  girl,  without  either  fatuity  or  resentment, 
judged  that,  since  it  could  render  Mrs.  Gereth 
indifferent  even  to  the  ministrations  of  disinter- 
ested attachment,  the  scene  had  been  tremendous. 
She  was  absent  from  luncheon,  where  indeed 
Fleda  had  enough  to  do  to  look  Owen  in  the  face ; 
there  would  be  so  much  to  make  that  hateful  in 
their  common  memory  of  the  passage  in  which 
his  last  visit  had  terminated.  This  had  been  her 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  47 

apprehension  at  least ;  but  as  soon  as  he  stood 
there  she  was  constrained  to  wonder  at  the  prac- 
tical simplicity  of  the  ordeal  —  a  simplicity  which 
was  really  just  his  own  simplicity,  the  particular 
thing  that,  for  Fleda  Vetch,  some  other  things  of 
course  aiding,  made  almost  any  direct  relation 
with  him  pleasant.  He  had  neither  wit,  nor  tact, 
nor  inspiration  :  all  she  could  say  was  that  when 
they  were  together  the  alienation  these  charms 
were  usually  depended  on  to  allay  did  n't  occur. 
On  this  occasion,  for  instance,  he  did  so  much 
better  than  "carry  off"  an  awkward  remem- 
brance :  he  simply  did  n't  have  it.  He  had  clean 
forgotten  that  she  was  the  girl  his  mother  would 
have  fobbed  off  on  him  ;  he  was  conscious  only 
that  she  was  there  in  a  manner  for  service  — 
conscious  of  the  dumb  instinct  that  from  the  first 
had  made  him  regard  her  not  as  complicating  his 
intercourse  with  that  personage,  but  as  simplify- 
ing it.  Fleda  found  beautiful  that  this  theory 
should  have  survived  the  incident  of  the  other 
day ;  found  exquisite  that  whereas  she  was  con- 
scious, through  faint  reverberations,  that  for  her 
kind  little  circle  at  large,  whom  it  did  n't  concern, 
her  tendency  had  begun  to  define  itself  as  para- 
sitical, this  strong  young  man,  who  had  a  right  to 
judge  and  even  a  reason  to  loathe  her,  didn't 
judge  and  didn't  loathe,  let  her  down  gently, 


48  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

treated  her  as  if  she  pleased  him,  and  in  fact 
evidently  liked  her  to  be  just  where  she  was.  She 
asked  herself  what  he  did  when  Mona  denounced 
her,  and  the  only  answer  to  the  question  was  that 
perhaps  Mona  did  n't  denounce  her.  If  Mona  was 
inarticulate  he  was  n't  such  a  fool,  then,  to  marry 
her.  That  he  was  glad  Fleda  was  there  was  at 
any  rate  sufficiently  shown  by  the  domestic  famil- 
iarity with  which  he  said  to  her :  "I  must  tell 
you  I  Ve  been  having  an  awful  row  with  my 
mother.  I  'm  engaged  to  be  married  to  Miss 
Brigstock." 

"  Ah,  really  ?  "  cried  Fleda,  achieving  a  radiance 
of  which  she  was  secretly  proud.  "  How  very 
exciting ! " 

"Too  exciting  for  poor  Mummy.  She  won't 
hear  of  it.  She  has  been  slating  her  fearfully. 
She  says  she 's  a  '  barbarian.'  " 

"Why,  she's  lovely  !  "  Fleda  exclaimed. 

"  Oh,  she 's  all  right.  Mother  must  come 
round." 

"Only  give  her  time,"  said  Fleda.  She  had 
advanced  to  the  threshold  of  the  door  thus  thrown 
open  to  her  and,  without  exactly  crossing  it,  she 
threw  in  an  appreciative  glance.  She  asked  Owen 
when  his  marriage  would  take  place,  and  in  the 
light  of  his  reply  read  that  Mrs.  Gereth's  wretched 
attitude  would  have  no  influence  at  all  on  the 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  49 

event,  absolutely  fixed  when  he  came  down,  and 
distant  by  only  three  months.  He  liked  Fleda's 
seeming  to  be  on  his  side,  though  that  was  a 
secondary  matter,  for  what  really  most  concerned 
him  now  was  the  line  his  mother  took  about 
Poynton,  her  declared  unwillingness  to  give  it  up. 
"  Naturally  I  want  my  own  house,  you  know," 
he  said,  "  and  my  father  made  every  arrangement 
for  me  to  have  it.  But  she  may  make  it  devilish 
awkward.  What  in  the  world 's  a  fellow  to  do  ? " 
This  it  was  that  Owen  wanted  to  know,  and  there 
could  be  no  better  proof  of  his  friendliness  than 
his  air  of  depending  on  Fleda  Vetch  to  tell  him. 
She  questioned  him,  they  spent  an  hour  together, 
and,  as  he  gave  her  the  scale  of  the  concussion  • 
from  which  he  had  rebounded,  she  found  herself 
saddened  and  frightened  by  the  material  he 
seemed  to  offer  her  to  deal  with.  It  was  devilish 
awkward,  and  it  was  so  in  part  because  Owen 
had  no  imagination.  It  had  lodged  itself  in  that 
empty  chamber  that  his  mother  hated  the  sur- 
render because  she  hated  Mona.  He  didn't  of 
course  understand  why  she  hated  Mona,  but  this 
belonged  to  an  order  of  mysteries  that  never 
troubled  him  :  there  were  lots  of  things,  especially 
in  people's  minds,  that  a  fellow  did  n't  understand. 
Poor  Owen  went  through  life  with  a  frank  dread 
of  people's  minds :  there  were  explanations  he 


50  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

would  have  been  almost  as  shy  of  receiving  as  of 
giving.  There  was  therefore  nothing  that  ac- 
counted for  anything,  though  in  its  way  it  was 
vivid  enough,  in  his  picture  to  Fleda  of  his 
mother's  virtual  refusal  to  move.  That  was 
simply  what  it  was  ;  for  did  n't  she  refuse  to  move 
when  she  as  good  as  declared  that  she  would 
move  only  with  the  furniture  ?  It  was  the  furni- 
ture she  would  n't  give  up ;  and  what  was  the 
good  of  Poynton  without  the  furniture  ?  Besides, 
the  furniture  happened  to  be  his,  just  as  every- 
thing else  happened  to  be.  The  furniture — the 
word,  on  his  lips,  had  somehow,  for  Fleda,  the 
sound  of  washing-stands  and  copious  bedding, 
and  she  could  well  imagine  the  note  it  might  have 
struck  for  Mrs.  Gereth.  The  girl,  in  this  inter- 
view with  him,  spoke  of  the  contents  of  the  house 
only  as  "  the  works  of  art."  It  did  n't,  however, 
in  the  least  matter  to  Owen  what  they  were 
called ;  what  did  matter,  she  easily  guessed,  was 
that  it  had  been  laid  .upon  him  by  Mona,  been 
made  in  effect  a  condition  of  her  consent,  that  he 
should  hold  his  mother  to  the  strictest  accounta- 
bility for  them.  Mona  had  already  entered  upon 
the  enjoyment  of  her  rights.  She  had  made  him 
feel  that  Mrs.  Gereth  had  been  liberally  provided 
for,  and  had  asked  him  cogently  what  room  there 
would  be  at  Ricks  for  the  innumerable  treasures 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  51 

of  the  big  house.  Ricks,  the  sweet  little  place 
offered  to  the  mistress  of  Poynton  as  the  refuge 
of  her  declining  years,  had  been  left  to  the  late 
Mr.  Gereth,  a  considerable  time  before  his  death, 
by  an  old  maternal  aunt,  a  good  lady  who  had 
spent  most  of  her  life  there.  The  house  had  in 
recent  times  been  let,  but  it  was  amply  furnished, 
it  contained  all  the  defunct  aunt's  possessions. 
Owen  had  lately  inspected  it,  and  he  communi- 
cated to  Fleda  that  he  had  quietly  taken  Mona  to 
see  it.  It  was  n't  a  place  like  Poynton  —  what 
dower-house  ever  was  ?  —  but  it  was  an  awfully 
jolly  little  place,  and  Mona  had  taken  a  tremen- 
dous fancy  to  it.  If  there  were  a  few  things  at 
Poynton  that  were  Mrs.  Gereth' s  peculiar  prop- 
erty, of  course  she  must  take  them  away  with 
her ;  but  one  of  the  matters  that  became  clear  to 
Fleda  was  that  this  transfer  would  be  immedi- 
ately subject  to  Miss  Brigstock's  approval.  The 
special  business  that  she  herself  now  became 
aware  of  being  charged  with  was  that  of  seeing 
Mrs.  Gereth  safely  and  singly  off  the  premises. 

Her  heart  failed  her,  after  Owen  had  returned 
to  London,  with  the  ugliness  of  this  duty  —  with 
the  ugliness,  indeed,  of  the  whole  close  conflict. 
She  saw  nothing  of  Mrs.  Gereth  that  day  ;  she 
spent  it  in  roaming  with  sick  sighs,  in  feeling,  as 
she  passed  from  room  to  room,  that  what  was 


52  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

expected  of  her  companion  was  really  dreadful. 
It  would  have  been  better  never  to  have  had 
such  a  place  than  to  have  had  it  and  lose  it.  It 
was  odious  to  her  to  have  to  look  for  solutions  : 
what  a  strange  relation  between  mother  and  son 
when  there  was  no  fundamental  tenderness  out 
of  which  a  solution  would  irrepressibly  spring ! 
Was  it  Owen  who  was  mainly  responsible  for 
that  poverty  ?  Fleda  could  n't  think  so  when 
she  remembered  that,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned, 
Mrs.  Gereth  would  still  have  been  welcome  to 
have  her  seat  by  the  Poynton  fire.  The  fact 
that  from  the  moment  one  accepted  his  marrying 
one  saw  no  very  different  course  for  Owen  to 
take  made  her  all  the  rest  of  that  aching  day  find 
her  best  relief  in  the  mercy  of  not  having  yet  to 
face  her  hostess.  She' dodged  and  dreamed  and 
romanced  away  the  time ;  instead  of  inventing  a 
remedy  or  a  compromise,  instead  of  preparing  a 
plan  by  which  a  scandal  might  be  averted,  she 
gave  herself,  in  her  sentient  solitude,  up  to  a 
mere  fairy  tale,  up  to  the  very  taste  of  the  beau- 
tiful peace  with  which  she  would  have  filled  the 
air  if  only  something  might  have  been  that  could 
never  have  been. 


"  I  'LL  give  up  the  house  if  they  '11  let  me  take 
what  I  require  ! "  That,  on  the  morrow,  was 
what  Mrs.  Gereth's  stifled  night  had  qualified 
her  to  say,  with  a  tragic  face,  at  breakfast.  Fleda 
reflected  that  what  she  "required"  was  simply 
every  object  that  surrounded  them.  The  poor 
woman  would  have  admitted  this  truth  and  ac- 
cepted the  conclusion  to  be  drawn  from  it,  the 
reduction  to  the  absurd  of  her  attitude,  the  exal- 
tation of  her  revolt.  The  girl's  dread  of  a  scan- 
dal, of  spectators  and  critics,  diminished  the  more 
she  saw  how  little  vulgar  avidity  had  to  do  with 
this  rigor.  It  was  not  the  crude  love  of  posses- 
sion ;  it  was  the  need  to  be  faithful  to  a  trust  and 
loyal  to  an  idea.  The  idea  was  surely  noble :  it 
was  that  of  the  beauty  Mrs.  Gereth  had  so  pa- 
tiently and  consummately  wrought.  Pale  but 
radiant,  with  her  back  to  the  wall,  she  rose  there 
like  a  heroine  guarding  a  treasure.  To  give  up 
the  ship  was  to  flinch  from  her  duty ;  there  was 
something  in  her  eyes  that  declared  she  would 
die  at  her  post.  If  their  difference  should  be- 


54  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

come  public  the  shame  would  be  all  for  the 
others.  If  Waterbath  thought  it  could  afford  to 
expose  itself,  then  Waterbath  was  welcome  to  the 
folly.  Her  fanaticism  gave  her  a  new  distinc- 
tion, and  Fleda  perceived  almost  with  awe  that 
she  had  never  carried  herself  so  well.  She  trod 
the  place  like  a  reigning  queen  or  a  proud  usur- 
per; full  as  it  was  of  splendid  pieces,  it  could 
show  in  these  days  no  ornament  so  effective  as 
its  menaced  mistress. 

Our  young  lady's  spirit  was  strangely  divided  ; 
she  had  a  tenderness  for  Owen  which  she  deeply 
concealed,  yet  it  left  her  occasion  to  marvel  at 
the  way  a  man  was  made  who  could  care  in  any 
relation  for  a  creature  like  Mona  Brigstock  when 
he  had  known  in  any  relation  a  creature  like 
Adela  Gereth.  With  such  a  mother  to  give  him 
the  pitch,  how  could  he  take  it  so  low  ?  She 
wondered  that  she  didn't  despise  him  for  this, 
but  there  was  something  that  kept  her  from  it. 
If  there  had  been  nothing  else  it  would  have 
sufficed  that  she  really  found  herself  from  this 
moment  the  medium  of  communication  with  him. 

"He'll  come  back  to  assert  himself,"  Mrs. 
Gereth  had  said  ;  and  the  following  week  Owen 
in  fact  reappeared.  He  might  merely  have  writ- 
ten, Fleda  could  see,  but  he  had  come  in  person 
because  it  was  at  once  "  nicer  "  for  his  mother 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  55 

and  stronger  for  his  cause.  He  did  n't  like  the 
row,  though  Mona  probably  did ;  if  he  had  n't  a 
sense  of  beauty  he  had  after  all  a  sense  of  jus- 
tice ;  but  it  was  inevitable  he  should  clearly  an- 
nounce at  Poynton  the  date  at  which  he  must 
look  to  find  the  house  vacant.  "  You  don't  think 
I  'm  rough  or  hard,  do  you  ? "  he  asked  of  Fleda, 
his  impatience  shining  in  his  idle  eyes  as  the 
dining-hour  shines  in  club-windows.  "  The  place 
at  Ricks  stands  there  with  open  arms.  And 
then  I  give  her  lots  of  time.  Tell  her  she  can 
remove  everything  that  belongs  to  her."  Fleda 
recognized  the  elements  of  what  the  newspapers 
call  a  deadlock  in  the  circumstance  that  nothing 
at  Poynton  belonged  to  Mrs.  Gereth  either  more 
or  less  than  anything  else.  She  must  either  take 
everything  or  nothing,  and  the  girl's  suggestion 
was  that  it  might  perhaps  be  an  inspiration  to 
do  the  latter  and  begin  again  on  a  clean  page. 
What,  however,  was  the  poor  woman,  in  that 
case,  to  begin  with  ?  What  was  she  to  do  at  all, 
on  her  meagre  income,  but  make  the  best  of  the 
objets  d'art  of  Ricks,  the  treasures  collected  by 
Mr.  Gereth' s  maiden  aunt  ?  She  had  never  been 
near  the  place  :  for  long  years  it  had  been  let  to 
strangers,  and  after  that  the  foreboding  that  it 
would  be  her  doom  had  kept  her  from  the  abase- 
ment of  it.  She  had  felt  that  she  should  see  it 


56  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

soon  enough,  but  Fleda  (who  was  careful  not  to 
betray  to  her  that  Mona  had  seen  it  and  had 
been  gratified)  knew  her  reasons  for  believing 
that  the  maiden  aunt's  principles  had  had  much 
in  common  with  the  principles  of  Waterbath. 
The  only  thing,  in  short,  that  she  would  ever 
have  to  do  with  the  objets  d'art  of  Ricks  would 
be  to  turn  them  out  into  the  road.  What  be- 
longed to  her  at  Poynton,  as  Owen  said,  would 
conveniently  mitigate  the  void  resulting  from 
that  demonstration. 

The  exchange  of  observations  between  the 
friends  had  grown  very  direct  by  the  time  Fleda 
asked  Mrs.  Gereth  whether  she  literally  meant 
to  shut  herself  up  and  stand  a  siege,  or  whether 
it  was  her  idea  to  expose  herself,  more  inform- 
ally, to  be  dragged  out  of  the  house  by  constables. 
"  Oh,  I  prefer  the  constables  and  the  dragging ! " 
the  heroine  of  Poynton  had  answered.  "  I  want 
to  make  Owen  and  Mona  do  everything  that  will 
be  most  publicly  odious."  She  gave  it  out  that 
it  was  her  one  thought  now  to  force  them  to  a 
line  that  would  dishonor  them  and  dishonor  the 
tradition  they  embodied,  though  Fleda  was  pri- 
vately sure  that  she  had  visions  of  an  alternative 
policy.  The  strange  thing  was  that,  proud  and 
fastidious  all  her  life,  she  now  showed  so  little 
distaste  for  the  world's  hearing  of  the  squabble. 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  57 

What  had  taken  place  in  her  above  all  was  that 
a  long  resentment  had  ripened.  She  hated  the 
effacement  to  which  English  usage  reduced  the 
widowed  mother:  she  had  discoursed  of  it  pas- 
sionately to  Fleda  ;  contrasted  it  with  the  beauti- 
ful homage  paid  in  other  countries  to  women  in 
that  position,  women  no  better  than  herself, 
whom  she  had  seen  acclaimed  and  enthroned, 
whom  she  had  known  and  envied ;  made  in  short 
as  little  as  possible  a  secret  of  the  injury,  the 
bitterness  she  found  in  it.  The  great  wrong 
Owen  had  done  her  was  not  his  "taking  up" 
with  Mona — that  was  disgusting,  but  it  was  a 
detail,  an  accidental  form  :  it  was  his  failure  from 
the  first  to  understand  what  it  was  to  have  a 
mother  at  all,  to  appreciate  the  beauty  and  sanc- 
tity of  the  character.  She  was  just  his  mother 
as  his  nose  was  just  his  nose,  and  he  had  never 
had  the  least  imagination  or  tenderness  or  gal- 
lantry about  her.  One's  mother,  gracious  heaven, 
if  one  were  the  kind  of  fine  young  man  one  ought 
to  be,  the  only  kind  Mrs.  Gereth  cared  for,  was 
a  subject  for  poetry,  for  idolatry.  Hadn't  she 
often  told  Fleda  of  her  friend  Madame  de  Jaume, 
the  wittiest  of  women,  but  a  small,  black,  crooked 
person,  each  of  whose  three  boys,  when  absent, 
wrote  to  her  every  day  of  their  lives  ?  She  had 
the  house  in  Paris,  she  had  the  house  in  Poitou, 


58  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

she  had  more  than  in  the  lifetime  of  her  husband 
(to  whom,  in  spite  of  her  appearance,  she  had 
afforded  repeated  cause  for  jealousy),  because  she 
had  to  the  end  of  her  days  the  supreme  word 
about  everything.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  Mrs. 
Gereth  would  have  given  again  and  again  her 
complexion,  her  figure,  and  even  perhaps  the 
spotless  virtue  she  had  still  more  successfully 
retained,  to  have  been  the  consecrated  Madame 
de  Jaume.  She  was  n't,  alas,  and  this  was  what 
she  had  at  present  a  magnificent  occasion  to  pro- 
test against.  She  was  of  course  fully  aware  of 
Owen's  concession,  his  willingness  to  let  her 
take  away  with  her  the  few  things  she  liked  best ; 
but  as  yet  she  only  declared  that  to  meet  him  on 
this  ground  would  be  to  give  him  a  triumph,  to 
put  him  impossibly  in  the  right.  "  Liked  best "  ? 
There  was  n't  a  thing  in  the  house  that  she 
did  n't  like  best,  and  what  she  liked  better  still 
was  to  be  left  where  she  was.  How  could  Owen 
use  such  an  expression  without  being  conscious 
of  his  hypocrisy  ?  Mrs.  Gereth,  whose  criticism 
was  often  gay,  dilated  with  sardonic  humor  on 
the  happy  look  a  dozen  objects  from  Poynton 
would  wear  and  the  charming  effect  they  would 
conduce  to  when  interspersed  with  the  peculiar 
features  of  Ricks.  What  had  her  whole  life  been 
but  an  effort  toward  completeness  and  perfec- 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  59 

tion  ?     Better  Waterbath  at  once,  in  its  cynical 
unity,  than  the  ignominy  of  such  a  mixture  ! 

All  this  was  of  no  great  help  to  Fleda,  in  so  far 
as  Fleda  tried  to  rise  to  her  mission  of  finding  a 
way  out.  When  at  the  end  of  a  fortnight  Owen 
came  down  once  more,  it  was  ostensibly  to  tackle 
a  farmer  whose  proceedings  had  been  irregular ; 
the  girl  was  sure,  however,  that  he  had  really 
come,  on  the  instance  of  Mona,  to  see  what  his 
mother  was  doing.  He  wished  to  satisfy  himself 
that  she  was  preparing  her  departure,  and  he 
wished  to  perform  a  duty,  distinct  but  not  less 
imperative,  in  regard  to  the  question  of  the  per- 
quisites with  which  she  would  retreat.  The 
tension  between  them  was  now  such  that  he  had 
to  perpetrate  these  offenses  without  meeting  his 
adversary.  Mrs.  Gereth  was  as  willing  as  him- 
self that  he  should  address  to  Fleda  Vetch  what- 
ever cruel  remarks  he  might  have  to  make  :  she 
only  pitied  her  poor  young  friend  for  repeated 
encounters  with  a  person  as  to  whom  she  per- 
fectly understood  the  girl's  repulsion.  Fleda 
thought  it  nice  of  Owen  not  to  have  expected  her 
to  write  to  him ;  he  would  n't  have  wished  any 
more  than  herself  that  she  should  have  the  air 
of  spying  on  his  mother  in  his  interest.  What 
made  it  comfortable  to  deal  with  him  in  this 
more  familiar  way  was  the  sense  that  she  under- 


60  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

stood  so  perfectly  how  poor  Mrs.  Gereth  suffered, 
and  that  she  measured  so  adequately  the  sacrifice 
the  other  side  did  take  rather  monstrously  for 
granted.  She  understood  equally  how  Owen 
himself  suffered,  now  that  Mona  had  already 
begun  to  make  him  do  things  he  didn't  like. 
Vividly  Fleda  apprehended  how  she  would  have 
first  made  him  like  anything  she  would  have 
made  him  do  ;  anything  even  as  disagreeable  as 
this  appearing  there  to  state,  virtually  on  Mona's 
behalf,  that  of  course  there  must  be  a  definite 
limit  to  the  number  of  articles  appropriated. 
She  took  a  longish  stroll  with  him  in  order  to 
talk  the  matter  over  ;  to  say  if  she  did  n't  think 
a  dozen  pieces,  chosen  absolutely  at  will,  would 
be  a  handsome  allowance  ;  and  above  all  to  con- 
sider the  very  delicate  question  of  whether  the 
advantage  enjoyed  by  Mrs.  Gereth  mightn't  be 
left  to  her  honor.  To  leave  it  so  was  what  Owen 
wished ;  but  there  was  plainly  a  young  lady  at 
Waterbath '  to  whom,  on  his  side,  he  already  had 
to  render  an  account.  He  was  as  touching  in 
his  offhand  annoyance  as  his  mother  was  tragic 
in  her  intensity  ;  for  if  he  could  n't  help  having 
a  sense  of  propriety  about  the  whole  matter,  so 
he  could  as  little  help  hating  it.  It  was  for  his 
hating  it,  Fleda  reasoned,  that  she  liked  him  so, 
and  her  insistence  to  his  mother  on  the  hatred 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  6 1 

perilously  resembled,  on  one  or  two  occasions,  a 
revelation  of  the  liking.  There  were  moments 
when,  in  conscience,  that  revelation  pressed  her ; 
inasmuch  as  it  was  just  on  the  ground  of  her  not 
liking  him  that  Mrs.  Gereth  trusted  her  so  much. 
Mrs.  Gereth  herself  did  n't  in  these  days  like  him 
at  all,  and  she  was  of  course  and  always  on  Mrs. 
Gereth' s  side.  He  ended  really,  while  the 
preparations  for  his  marriage  went  on,  by  quite 
a  little  custom  of  coming  and  going ;  but  on  no 
one  of  these  occasions  would  his  mother  receive 
him.  He  talked  only  with  Fleda  and  strolled 
with  Fleda ;  and  when  he  asked  her,  in  regard  to 
the  great  matter,  if  Mrs.  Gereth  were  really 
doing  nothing,  the  girl  usually  replied :  "  She 
pretends  not  to  be,  if  I  may  say  so  ;  but  I  think 
she's  really  thinking  over  what  she'll  take." 
When  her  friend  asked  her  what  Owen  was 
doing,  she  could  have  but  one  answer :  "  He  's 
waiting,  dear  lady,  to  see  what  you  do  !  " 

Mrs.  Gereth,  a  month  after  she  had  received 
her  great  shock,  did  something  abrupt  and  ex- 
traordinary :  she  caught  up  her  companion  and 
went  to  have  a  look  at  Ricks.  They  had  come 
to  London  first  and  taken  a  train  from  Liver- 
pool Street,  and  the  least  of  the  sufferings 
they  were  armed  against  was  that  of  passing  the 
night.  Fleda's  admirable  dressing-bag  had  been 


62  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

given  her  by  her  friend.  "  Why,  it 's  charm- 
ing ! "  she  exclaimed  a  few  hours  later,  turn- 
ing back  again  into  the  small  prim  parlor  from 
a  friendly  advance  to  the  single  plate'  of  the 
window.  Mrs.  Gereth  hated  such  windows,  the 
one  flat  glass,  sliding  up  and  down,  especially 
when  they  enjoyed  a  view  of  four  iron  pots 
on  pedestals,  painted  white  and  containing  ugly 
geraniums,  ranged  on  the  edge  of  a  gravel-path 
and  doing  their  best  to  give  it  the  air  of  a 
terrace.  Fleda  had  instantly  averted  her  eyes 
from  these  ornaments,  but  Mrs.  Gereth  grimly 
gazed,  wondering  of  course  how  a  place  in  the 
deepest  depths  of  Essex  and  three  miles  from  a 
small  station  could  contrive  to  look  so  suburban. 
The  room  was  practically  a  shallow  box,  with  the 
junction  of  the  walls  and  ceiling  guiltless  of  curve 
or  cornice  and  marked  merely  by  the  little  band 
of  crimson  paper  glued  round  the  top  of  the 
other  paper,  a  turbid  gray  sprigged  with  silver 
flowers.  This  decoration  was  rather  new  and 
quite  fresh ;  and  there  was  in  the  centre  of  the 
ceiling  a  big  square  beam  papered  over  in  white, 
as  to  which  Fleda  hesitated  about  venturing  to 
remark  that  it  was  rather  picturesque.  She 
recognized  in  time  that  this  remark  would  be 
weak  and  that,  throughout,  she  should  be  able 
to  say  nothing  either  for  the  mantelpieces  or  for 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  63 

the  doors,  of  which  she  saw  her  companion 
become  sensible  with  a  soundless  moan.  On  the 
subject  of  doors  especially  Mrs.  Gereth  had 
the  finest  views  :  the  thing  in  the  world  she  most 
despised  was  the  meanness  of  the  single  flap. 
From  end  to  end,  at  Poynton,  there  were  high 
double  leaves.  At  Ricks  the  entrances  to  the 
rooms  were  like  the  holes  of  rabbit-hutches. 

It  was  all,  none  the  less,  not  so  bad  as  Fleda 
had  feared ;  it  was  faded  and  melancholy, 
whereas  there  had  been  a  danger  that  it  would  be 
contradictious  and  positive,  cheerful  and  loud. 
The  house  was  crowded  with  objects  of  which 
the  aggregation  somehow  made  a  thinness  and 
the  futility  a  grace  ;  things  that  told  her  they 
had  been  gathered  as  slowly  and  as  lovingly  as 
the  golden  flowers  of  Poynton.  She  too,  for  a 
home,  could  have  lived  with  them  :  they  made 
her  fond  of  the  old  maiden-aunt ;  they  made  her 
even  wonder  if  it  did  n't  work  more  for  happiness 
not  to  have  tasted,  as  she  herself  had  done,  of 
knowledge.  Without  resources,  without  a  stick, 
as  she  said,  of  her  own,  Fleda  was  moved,  after 
all,  to  some  secret  surprise  at  the  pretensions  of 
a  shipwrecked  woman  who  could  hold  such  an 
asylum  cheap.  The  more  she  looked  about  the 
surer  she  felt  of  the  character  of  the  maiden-aunt, 
the  sense  of  whose  dim  presence  urged  her  to 


64  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

pacification  :  the  maiden-aunt  had  been  a  dear ; 
she  would  have  adored  the  maiden-aunt.  The 
poor  lady  had  had  some  tender  little  story  ;  she 
had  been  sensitive  and  ignorant  and  exquisite : 
that  too  was  a  sort  of  origin,  a  sort  of  atmosphere 
for  relics  and  rarities,  though  different  from  the 
sorts  most  prized  at  Poynton.  Mrs.  Gereth  had 
of  course  more  than  once  said  that  one  of  the 
deepest  mysteries  of  life  was  the  way  that,  by 
certain  natures,  hideous  objects  could  be  loved ; 
but  it  was  n't  a  question  of  love,  now,  for  these  : 
it  was  only  a  question  of  a  certain  practical 
patience.  Perhaps  some  thought  of  that  kind 
had  stolen  over  Mrs.  Gereth  when,  at  the  end  of 
a  brooding  hour,  she  exclaimed,  taking  in  the 
house  with  a  strenuous  sigh  :  "  Well,  something 
can  be  done  with  it !  "  Fleda  had  repeated  to 
her  more  than  once  the  indulgent  fancy  about 
the  maiden- aunt  —  she  was  so  sure  she  had 
deeply  suffered.  "  I  'm  sure  I  hope  she  did  !  " 
was,  however,  all  that  Mrs.  Gereth  had  replied. 


VI 

IT  was  a  great  relief  to  the  girl  at  last  to  per- 
ceive that  the  dreadful  move  would  really  be 
made.  What  might  happen  if  it  should  n't  had 
been  from  the  first  indefinite.  It  was  absurd  to 
pretend  that  any  violence  was  probable  —  a 
tussel,  dishevelment,  shrieks  ;  yet  Fleda  had  an 
imagination  of  a  drama,  a  "  great  scene,"  a  thing, 
somehow,  of  indignity  and  misery,  of  wounds 
inflicted  and  received,  in  which  indeed,  though 
Mrs.  Gereth's  presence,  with  movements  and 
sounds,  loomed  large  to  her,  Owen  remained 
indistinct  and  on  the  whole  unaggressive.  He 
would  n't  be  there  with  a  cigarette  in  his  teeth, 
very  handsome  and  insolently  quiet :  that  was 
only  the  way  he  would  be  in  a  novel,  across 
whose  interesting  page  some  such  figure,  as  she 
half  closed  her  eyes,  seemed  to  her  to  walk. 
Fleda  had  rather,  and  indeed  with  shame,  a  con- 
fused, pitying  vision  of  Mrs.  Gereth  with  her 
great  scene  left  in  a  manner  on  her  hands,  Mrs. 
Gereth  missing  her  effect  and  having  to  appear 
merely  hot  and  injured  and  in  the  wrong.  The 


66  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

symptoms  that  she  would  be  spared  even  that 
spectacle  resided  not  so  much,  through  the 
chambers  of  Poynton,  in  an  air  of  concentration 
as  in  the  hum  of  buzzing  alternatives.  There 
was  no  common  preparation,  but  one  day,  at  the 
turn  of  a  corridor,  she  found  her  hostess  standing 
very  still,  with  the  hanging  hands  of  an  invalid 
and  the  active  eyes  of  an  adventurer.  These 
eyes  appeared  to  Fleda  to  meet  her  own  with  a 
strange,  dim  bravado,  and  there  was  a  silence, 
almost  awkward,  before  either  of  the  friends 
spoke.  The  girl  afterwards  thought  of  the 
moment  as  one  in  which  her  hostess  mutely 
accused  her  of  an  accusation,  meeting  it,  how- 
ever, at  the  same  time,  by  a  kind  of  defiant 
acceptance.  Yet  it  was  with  mere  melancholy 
candor  that  Mrs.  Gereth  at  last  sighingly  ex- 
claimed :  "  I  'm  thinking  over  what  I  had  better 
take  !  "  Fleda  could  have  embraced  her  for  this 
virtual  promise  of  a  concession,  the  announcement 
that  she  had  finally  accepted  the  problem  of 
knocking  together  a  shelter  with  the  small 
salvage  of  the  wreck. 

It  was  true  that  when  after  their  return  from 
Ricks  they  tried  to  lighten  the  ship,  the  great 
embarrassment  was  still  immutably  there,  the 
odiousness  of  sacrificing  the  exquisite  things  one 
would  n't  take  to  the  exquisite  things  one  would. 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  6/ 

This  immediately  made  the  things  one  would  n't 
take  the  very  things  one  ought  to,  and,  as  Mrs. 
Gereth  said,  condemned  one,  in  the  whole  busi- 
ness, to  an  eternal  vicious  circle.  In  such  a  cir- 
cle, for  days,  she  had  been  tormentedly  moving, 
prowling  up  and  down,  comparing  incomparables. 
It  was  for  that  one  had  to  cling  to  them  and 
their  faces  of  supplication.  Fleda  herself  could 
judge  of  these  faces,  so  conscious  of  their  race 
and  their  danger,  and  she  had  little  enough  to 
say  when  her  companion  asked  her  if  the  whole 
place,  perversely  fair  on  October  afternoons, 
looked  like  a  place  to  give  up.  It  looked,  to  be- 
gin with,  through  some  effect  of  season  and  light, 
larger  than  ever,  immense,  and  it  was  filled  with 
the  hush  of  sorrow,  which  in  turn  was  all  charged 
with  memories.  Everything  was  in  the  air  — 
every  history  of  every  find,  every  circumstance 
of  every  struggle.  Mrs.  Gereth  had  drawn  back 
every  curtain  and  removed  every  cover ;  she  pro- 
longed the  vistas,  opened  wide  the  whole  house, 
gave  it  an  appearance  of  awaiting  a  royal  visit. 
The  shimmer  of  wrought  substances  spent  itself 
in  the  brightness ;  the  old  golds  and  brasses,  old 
ivories  and  bronzes,  the  fresh  old  tapestries  and 
deep  old  damasks  threw  out  a  radiance  in  which 
the  poor  woman  saw  in  solution  all  her  old  loves 
and  patiences,  all  her  old  tricks  and  triumphs. 


68  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

Fleda  had  a  depressed  sense  of  not,  after  all, 
helping  her  much  :  this  was  lightened  indeed  by 
the  fact  that  Mrs.  Gereth,  letting  her  off  easily, 
did  n't  now  seem  to  expect  it.  Her  sympathy, 
her  interest,  her  feeling  for  everything  for  which 
Mrs.  Gereth  felt,  were  a  force  that  really  worked 
to  prolong  the  deadlock.  "  I  only  wish  I  bored 
you  and  my  possessions  bored  you,"  that  lady, 
with  some  humor,  declared ;  "  then  you  'd  make 
short  work  with  me,  bundle  me  off,  tell  me  just 
to  pile  certain  things  into  a  cart  and  have  done." 
Fleda's  sharpest  difficulty  was  in  having  to  act 
up  to  the  character  of  thinking  Owen  a  brute,  or 
at  least  to  carry  off  the  inconsistency  of  seeing 
him  when  he  came  down.  By  good  fortune  it 
was  her  duty,  her  function,  as  well  as  a  protection 
to  Mrs.  Gereth.  She  thought  of  him  perpetually, 
and  her  eyes  had  come  to  rejoice  in  his  manly 
magnificence  more  even  than  they  rejoiced  in  the 
royal  cabinets  of  the  red  saloon.  She  wondered, 
very  faintly  at  first,  why  he  came  so  often  ;  but 
of  course  she  knew  nothing  about  the  business 
he  had  in  hand,  over  which,  with  men  red-faced 
and  leather-legged,  he  was  sometimes  closeted 
for  an  hour  in  a  room  of  his  own  that  was  the 
one  monstrosity  of  Poynton  :  all  tobacco-pots  and 
bootjacks,  his  mother  had  said  —  such  an  array 
of  arms  of  aggression  and  castigation  that  he 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  69 

himself  had  confessed  to  eighteen  rifles  and  forty 
whips.  He  was  arranging  for  settlements  on  his 
wife,  he  was  doing  things  that  would  meet  the 
views  of  the  Brigstocks.  Considering  the  house 
was  his  own,  Fleda  thought  it  nice  of  him  to 
keep  himself  in  the  background  while  his  mother 
remained ;  making  his  visits,  at  some  cost  of 
ingenuity  about  trains  from  town,  only  between 
meals,  doing  everything  to  let  it  press  lightly 
upon  her  that  he  was  there.  This  was  rather  a 
stoppage  to  her  meeting  Mrs.  Gereth  on  the 
ground  of  his  being  a  brute  ;  the  most  she  really 
at  last  could  do  was  not  to  contradict  her  when 
she  repeated  that  he  was  watching  —  just  insult- 
ingly watching.  He  was  watching,  no  doubt ; 
but  he  watched  somehow  with  his  head  turned 
away.  He  knew  that  Fleda  knew  at  present 
what  he  wanted  of  her,  so  that  it  would  be  gross 
of  him  to  say  it  over  and  over.  It  existed  as  a 
confidence  between  them,  and  made  him  some- 
times, with  his  wandering  stare,  meet  her  eyes  as 
if  a  silence  so  pleasant  could  only  unite  them  the 
more.  He  had  no  great  flow  of  speech,  certainly, 
and  at  first  the  girl  took  for  granted  that  this 
was  all  there  was  to  be  said  about  the  matter. 
Little  by  little  she  speculated  as  to  whether,  with 
a  person  who,  like  herself,  could  put  him,  after 
all,  at  a  sort  of  domestic  ease,  it  was  not  suppos- 


/O  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

able  that  he  would  have  more  conversation  if  he 
were  not  keeping  some  of  it  back  for  Mona. 

From  the  moment  she  suspected  he  might  be 
thinking  what  Mona  would  say  to  his  chattering 
so  to  an  underhand  "  companion,"  who  was  all  but 
paid,  this  young  lady's  repressed  emotion  began 
to  require  still  more  repression.  She  grew  impa- 
tient of  her  situation  at  Poynton  ;  she  privately 
pronounced  it  false  and  horrid.  She  said  to  her- 
self that  she  had  let  Owen  know  that  she  had,  to 
the  best  of  her  power,  directed  his  mother  in  the 
general  sense  he  desired  ;  that  he  quite  understood 
it  and  that  he  also  understood  how  unworthy  it 
was  of  either  of  them  to  stand  over  the  good  lady 
with  a  notebook  and  a  lash.  Was  n't  this  practi- 
cal unanimity  just  practical  success  ?  Fleda  be- 
came aware  of  a  sudden  desire,  as  well  as  of 
pressing  reasons,  to  bring  her  stay  at  Poynton  to 
a  close.  She  had  not,  on  the  one  hand,  like  a 
minion  of  the  law,  undertaken  to  see  Mrs.  Gereth 
down  to  the  train  and  locked,  in  sign  of  her  abdi- 
cation, into  a  compartment ;  neither  had  she  on 
the  other  committed  herself  to  hold  Owen  indefi- 
nitely in  dalliance  while  his  mother  gained  time 
or  dug  a  counter-mine.  Besides,  people  were 
saying  that  she  fastened  like  a  leech  on  other 
people  —  people  who  had  houses  where  some- 
thing was  to  be  picked  up :  this  revelation  was 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  /I 

frankly  made  her  by  her  sister,  now  distinctly 
doomed  to  the  curate  and  in  view  of  whose 
nuptials  she  had  almost  finished,  as  a  present,  a 
wonderful  piece  of  embroidery,  suggested,  at 
Poynton,  by  an  old  Spanish  altar-cloth.  She 
would  have  to  exert  herself  still  further  for  the 
intended  recipient  of  this  offering,  turn  her  out 
for  her  marriage  with  more  than  that  drapery. 
She  would  go  up  to  town,  in  short,  to  dress  Mag- 
gie ;  and  their  father,  in  lodgings  at  West  Ken- 
sington, would  stretch  a  point  and  take  them  in. 
He,  to  do  him  justice,  never  reproached  her  with 
profitable  devotions ;  so  far  as  they  existed  he 
consciously  profited  by  them.  Mrs.  Gereth  gave 
her  up  as  heroically  as  if  she  had  been  a  great 
bargain,  and  Fleda  knew  that  she  wouldn't  at 
present  miss  any  visit  of  Owen's,  for  Owen  was 
shooting  at  Waterbath.  Owen  shooting  was 
Owen  lost,  and  there  was  scant  sport  at  Poynton. 
The  first  news  she  had  from  Mrs.  Gereth  was 
news  of  that  lady's  having  accomplished,  in  form 
at  least,  her  migration.  The  letter  was  dated 
from  Ricks,  to  which  place  she  had  been  trans- 
ported by  an  impulse  apparently  as  sudden  as 
the  inspiration  she  had  obeyed  before.  "Yes, 
I  've  literally  come,"  she  wrote,  "with  a  bandbox 
and  a  kitchen-maid ;  I  've  crossed  the  Rubicon, 
I  've  taken  possession.  It  has  been  like  plump- 


72  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

ing  into  cold  water  :  I  saw  the  only  thing  was  to 
do  it,  not  to  stand  shivering.  I  shall  have  warmed 
the  place  a  little  by  simply  being  here  for  a 
week ;  when  I  come  back  the  ice  will  have  been 
broken.  I  did  n't  write  to  you  to  meet  me  on 
my  way  through  town,  because  I  know  how  busy 
you  are  and  because,  besides,  I  'm  too  savage  and 
odious  to  be  fit  company  even  for  you.  You  'd 
say  I  really  go  too  far,  and  there's  no  doubt 
whatever  I  do.  I  'm  here,  at  any  rate,  just  to 
look  round  once  more,  to  see  that  certain  things 
are  done  before  I  enter  in  force.  I  shall  prob- 
ably be  at  Poynton  all  next  week.  There  's 
more  room  than  I  quite  measured  the  other  day, 
and  a  rather  good  set  of  old  Worcester.  But 
what  are  space  and  time,  what 's  even  old  Wor- 
cester, to  your  wretched  and  affectionate  A.  G.  ? " 
The  day  after  Fleda  received  this  letter  she 
had  occasion  to  go  into  a  big  shop  in  Oxford 
Street  —  a  journey  that  she  achieved  circui- 
tously,  first  on  foot  and  then  by  the  aid  of  two 
omnibuses.  The  second  of  these  vehicles  put 
her  down  on  the  side  of  the  street  opposite  her 
shop,  and  while,  on  the  curbstone,  she  humbly 
waited,  with  a  parcel,  an  umbrella,  and  a  tucked-up 
frock,  to  cross  in  security,  she  became  aware  that, 
close  beside  her,  a  hansom  had  pulled  up  short, 
in  obedience  to  the  brandished  stick  of  a  demon- 


THE   SPOILS   OF  POYNTON  73 

strative  occupant.  This  occupant  was  Owen 
Gereth,  who  had  caught  sight  of  her  as  he  rat- 
tled along  and  who,  with  an  exhibition  of  white 
teeth  that,  from  under  the  hood  of  the  cab,  had 
almost  flashed  through  the  fog,  now  alighted  to 
ask  her  if  he  could  n't  give  her  a  lift.  On  find- 
ing that  her  destination  was  only  over  the  way 
he  dismissed  his  vehicle  and  joined  her,  not  only 
piloting  her  to  the  shop,  but  taking  her  in ;  with 
the  assurance  that  his  errands  did  n't  matter, 
that  it  amused  him  to  be  concerned  with  hers. 
She  told  him  she  had  come  to  buy  a  trimming 
for  her  sister's  frock,  and  he  expressed  an  hilari- 
ous interest  in  the  purchase.  His  hilarity  was 
almost  always  out  of  proportion  to  the  case,  but 
it  struck  her  at  present  as  more  so  than  ever ; 
especially  when  she  had  suggested  that  he  might 
find  it  a  good  time  to  buy  a  garnishment  of  some 
sort  for  Mona.  After  wondering  an  instant 
whether  he  gave  the  full  satiric  meaning,  such  as 
it  was,  to  this  remark,  Fleda  dismissed  the  pos- 
sibility as  inconceivable.  He  stammered  out 
that  it  was  for  her  he  would  like  to  buy  some- 
thing, something  "  ripping,"  and  that  she  must 
give  him  the  pleasure  of  telling  him  what  would 
best  please  her  :  he  could  n't  have  a  better  op- 
portunity for  making  her  a  present  —  the  present, 
in  recognition  of  all  she  had  done  for  Mummy, 
that  he  had  had  in  his  head  for  weeks. 


74  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

Fleda  had  more  than  one  small  errand  in  the 
big  bazaar,  and  he  went  up  and  down  with  her, 
pointedly  patient,  pretending  to  be  interested  in 
questions  of  tape  and  of  change.  She  had  now 
not  the  least  hesitation  in  wondering  what  Mona 
would  think  of  such  proceedings.  But  they  were 
not  her  doing  —  they  were  Owen's ;  and  Owen, 
inconsequent  and  even  extravagant,  was  unlike 
anything  she  had  ever  seen  him  before.  He 
broke  off,  he  came  back,  he  repeated  questions 
without  heeding  answers,  he  made  vague,  abrupt 
remarks  about  the  resemblances  of  shopgirls  and 
the  uses  of  chiffon.  He  unduly  prolonged  their 
business  together,  giving  Fleda  a  sense  that  he 
was  putting  off  something  particular  that  he  had 
to  face.  If  she  had  ever  dreamed  of  Owen 
Gereth  as  nervous  she  would  have  seen  him  with 
some  such  manner  as  this.  But  why  should  he 
be  nervous  ?  Even  at  the  height  of  the  crisis 
his  mother  had  n't  made  him  so,  and  at  present 
he  was  satisfied  about  his  mother.  The  one  idea 
he  stuck  to  was  that  Fleda  should  mention  some- 
thing she  would  let  him  give  her:  there  was 
everything  in  the  world  in  the  wonderful  place, 
and  he  made  her  incongruous  offers  —  a  travel- 
ing-rug, a  massive  clock,  a  table. for  breakfast  in 
bed,  and  above  all,  in  a  resplendent  binding,  a 
set  of  somebody's  "works."  His  notion  was  a 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  75 

testimonial,  a  tribute,  and  the  "  works  "  would  be 
a  graceful  intimation  that  it  was  her  cleverness 
he  wished  above  all  to  commemorate.  He  was 
immensely  in  earnest,  but  the  articles  he  pressed 
upon  her  betrayed  a  delicacy  that  went  to  her 
heart :  what  he  would  really  have  liked,  as  he 
saw  them  tumbled  about,  was  one  of  the  splendid 
stuffs  for  a  gown  —  a  choice  proscribed  by  his 
fear  of  seeming  to  patronize  her,  to  refer  to  her 
small  means  and  her  deficiencies.  Fleda  found  it 
easy  to  chaff  him  about  his  exaggeration  of  her 
deserts ;  she  gave  the  just  measure  of  them  in 
consenting  to  accept  a  small  pin-cushion,  costing 
sixpence,  in  which  the  letter  F  was  marked  out 
with  pins.  A  sense  of  loyalty  to  Mona  was  not 
needed  to  enforce  this  discretion,  and  after  that 
first  allusion  to  her  she  never  sounded  her  name. 
She  noticed  on  this  occasion  more  things  in 
Owen  Gereth  than  she  had  ever  noticed  before, 
but  what  she  noticed  most  was  that  he  said  no 
word  of  his  intended.  She  asked  herself  what 
he  had  done,  in  so  long  a  parenthesis,  with  his 
loyalty  or  at  least  his  "form ;"  and  then  reflected 
that  even  if  he  had  done  something  very  good 
with  them  the  situation  in  which  such  a  question 
could  come  up  was  already  a  little  strange.  Of 
course  he  was  n't  doing  anything  so  vulgar  as 
making  love  to  her  ;  but  there  was  a  kind  of 
punctilio  for  a  man  who  was  engaged. 


76  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

That  punctilio  did  n't  prevent  Owen  from  re- 
maining with  her  after  they  had  left  the  shop, 
from  hoping  she  had  a  lot  more  to  do,  and  from 
pressing  her  to  look  with  him,  for  a  possible 
glimpse  of  something  she  might  really  let  him 
give  her,  into  the  windows  of  other  establish- 
ments. There  was  a  moment  when,  under  this 
pressure,  she  made  up  her  mind  that  his  tribute 
would  be,  if  analyzed,  a  tribute  to  her  insignifi- 
cance. But  all  the  same  he  wanted  her  to  come 
somewhere  and  have  luncheon  with  him  :  what 
was  that  a  tribute  to  ?  She  must  have  counted 
very  little  if  she  did  n't  count  too  much  for  a 
romp  in  a  restaurant.  She  had  to  get  home  with 
her  trimming,  and  the  most,  in  his  company,  she 
was  amenable  to  was  a  retracing  of  her  steps  to 
the  Marble  Arch  and  then,  after  a  discussion 
when  they  had  reached  it,  a  walk  with  him  across 
the  Park.  She  knew  Mona  would  have  consid- 
ered that  she  ought  to  take  the  omnibus  again ; 
but  she  had  now  to  think  for  Owen  as  well  as  for 
herself  —  she  could  n't  think  for  Mona.  Even 
in  the  Park  the  autumn  air  was  thick,  and  as 
they  moved  westward  over  the  grass,  which  was 
what  Owen  preferred,  the  cool  grayness  made 
their  words  soft,  made  them  at  last  rare  and 
everything  else  dim.  He  wanted  to  stay  with 
her  —  he  wanted  not  to  leave  her :  he  had 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  77 

dropped  into  complete  silence,  but  that  was  what 
his  silence  said.  What  was  it  he  had  postponed  ? 
What  was  it  he  wanted  still  to  postpone  ?  She 
grew  a  little  scared  as  they  strolled  together  and 
she  thought.  It  was  too  confused  to  be  believed, 
but  it  was  as  if  somehow  he  felt  differently. 
Fleda  Vetch  did  n't  suspect  him  at  first  of  feel- 
ing differently  to  her,  but  only  of  feeling  differ- 
ently to  Mona ;  yet  she  was  not  unconscious  that 
this  latter  difference  would  have  had  something 
to  do  with  his  being  on  the  grass  beside  her. 
She  had  read  in  novels  about  gentlemen  who  on 
the  eve  of  marriage,  winding  up  the  past,  had 
surrendered  themselves  for  the  occasion  to  the 
influence  of  a  former  tie  ;  and  there  was  some- 
thing in  Owen's  behavior  now,  something  in  his 
very  face,  that  suggested  a  resemblance  to  one 
of  those  gentlemen.  But  whom  and  what,  in 
that  case,  would  Fleda  herself  resemble  ?  She 
wasn't  a  former  tie,  she  wasn't  any  tie  at  all ; 
she  was  only  a  deep  little  person  for  whom  hap- 
piness was  a  kind  of  pearl-diving  plunge.  It  was 
down  at  the  very  bottom  of  all  that  had  lately 
happened ;  for  all  that  had  lately  happened  was 
that  Owen  Gereth  had  come  and  gone  at  Poyn- 
ton.  That  was  the  small  sum  of  her  experience, 
and  what  it  had  made  for  her  was  her  own  affair, 
quite  consistent  with  her  not  having  dreamed  it 


78  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

had  made  a  tie  —  at  least  what  she  called  one  — 
for  Owen.  The  old  one,  at  any  rate,  was  Mona 
—  Mona  whom  he  had  known  so  very  much 
longer. 

They  walked  far,  to  the  southwest  corner  of 
the  great  Gardens,  where,  by  the  old  round  pond 
and  the  old  red  palace,  when  she  had  put  out  her 
hand  to  him  in  farewell,  declaring  that  from  the 
gate  she  must  positively  take  a  conveyance,  it 
seemed  suddenly  to  rise  between  them  that  this 
was  a  real  separation.  She  was  on  his  mother's 
side,  she  belonged  to  his  mother's  life,  and  his 
mother,  in  the  future,  would  never  come  to  Poyn- 
ton.  After  what  had  passed  she  would  n't  even 
be  at  his  wedding,  and  it  was  not  possible  now 
that  Mrs.  Gereth  should  mention  that  ceremony 
to  the  girl,  much  less  express  a  wish  that  the  girl 
should  be  present  at  it.  Mona,  from  decorum 
and  with  reference  less  to  the  bridegroom  than  to 
the  bridegroom's  mother,  would  of  course  not 
invite  any  such  girl  as  Fleda.  Everything  there- 
fore was  ended ;  they  would  go  their  different 
ways ;  this  was  the  last  time  they  would  stand 
face  to  face.  They  looked  at  each  other  with  the 
fuller  sense  of  it  and,  on  Owen's  part,  with  an 
expression  of  dumb  trouble,  the  intensification  of 
his  usual  appeal  to  any  interlocutor  to  add  the 
right  thing  to  what  he  said.  To  Fleda,  at  this 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  79 

moment,  it  appeared  that  the  right  thing  might 
easily  be  the  wrong.  He  only  said,  at  any  rate : 
"  I  want  you  to  understand,  you  know  —  I  want 
you  to  understand." 

What  did  he  want  her  to  understand?  He 
seemed  unable  to  bring  it  out,  and  this  under- 
standing was  moreover  exactly  what  she  wished 
not  to  arrive  at.  Bewildered  as  she  was,  she  had 
already  taken  in  as  much  as  she  should  know 
what  to  do  with ;  the  blood  also  was  rushing  into 
her  face.  He  liked  her  —  it  was  stupefying  — 
more  than  he  really  ought :  that  was  what  was 
the  matter  with  him  and  what  he  desired  her  to 
assimilate ;  so  that  she  was  suddenly  as  frightened 
as  some  thoughtless  girl  who  finds  herself  the 
object  of  an  overture  from  a  married  man. 

"  Good-bye,  Mr.  Gereth  —  I  mttst  get  on  !  "  she 
declared  with  a  cheerfulness  that  she  felt  to  be  an 
unnatural  grimace.  She  broke  away  from  him 
sharply,  smiling,  backing  across  the  grass  and 
then  turning  altogether  and  moving  as  fast  as  she 
could.  "  Good-bye,  good-bye  !  "  she  threw  off 
again  as  she  went,  wondering  if  he  would  overtake 
her  before  she  reached  the  gate ;  conscious  with 
a  red  disgust  that  her  movement  was  almost  a 
run ;  conscious  too  of  just  the  confused,  hand- 
some face  with  which  he  would  look  after  her. 
She  felt  as  if  she  had  answered  a  kindness  with  a 


80  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

great  flouncing  snub,  but  at  any  rate  she  had  got 
away,  though  the  distance  to  the  gate,  her  ugly 
gallop  down  the  Broad  Walk,  every  graceless  jerk 
of  which  hurt  her,  seemed  endless.  She  signed 
from  afar  to  a  cab  on  the  stand  in  the  Kensington 
Road  and  scrambled  into  it,  glad  of  the  encom- 
passment  of  the  four-wheeler  that  had  officiously 
obeyed  her  summons  and  that,  at  the  end  of 
twenty  yards,  when  she  had  violently  pulled  up  a 
glass,  permitted  her  to  recognize  the  fact  that 
she  was  on  the  point  of  bursting  into  tears. 


VII 

As  soon  as  her  sister  was  married  she  went 
down  to  Mrs.  Gereth  at  Ricks  —  a  promise  to 
this  effect  having  been  promptly  exacted  and 
given ;  and  her  inner  vision  was  much  more  fixed 
on  the  alterations  there,  complete  now,  as  she 
understood,  than  on  the  success  of  her  plotting 
and  pinching  for  Maggie's  happiness.  Her  im- 
agination, in  the  interval,  had  indeed  had  plenty 
to  do  and  numerous  scenes  to  visit ;  for  when  on 
the  summons  just  mentioned  it  had  taken  a  flight 
from  West  Kensington  to  Ricks,  it  had  hung  but 
an  hour  over  the  terrace  of  painted  pots  and  then 
yielded  to  a  current  of  the  upper  air  that  swept  it 
straight  off  to  Poynton  and  to  Waterbath.  Not 
a  sound  had  reached  her  of  any  supreme  clash, 
and  Mrs.  Gereth  had  communicated  next  to  no- 
thing ;  giving  out  that,  as  was  easily  conceivable, 
she  was  too  busy,  too  bitter,  and  too  tired  for  vain 
civilities.  All  she  had  written  was  that  she  had 
got  the  new  place  well  in  hand  and  that  Fleda 
would  be  surprised  at  the  way  it  was  turning  out. 
Everything  was  even  yet  upside  down  ;  neverthe- 


82  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

less,  in  the  sense  of  having  passed  the  threshold 
of  Poynton  for  the  last  time,  the  amputation,  as 
she  called  it,  had  been  performed.  Her  leg  had 
come  off  —  she  had  now  begun  to  stump  along 
with  the  lovely  wooden  substitute ;  she  would 
stump  for  life,  and  what  her  young  friend  was  to 
come  and  admire  was  the  beauty  of  her  move- 
ment and  the  noise  she  made  about  the  house. 
The  reserve  of  Poynton  and  Waterbath  had  been 
matched  by  the  austerity  of  Fleda's  own  secret, 
under  the  discipline  of  which  she  had  repeated  to 
herself  a  hundred  times  a  day  that  she  rejoiced 
at  having  cares  that  excluded  all  thought  of  it. 
She  had  lavished  herself,  in  act,  on  Maggie  and 
the  curate,  and  had  opposed  to  her  father's  sel- 
fishness a  sweetness  quite  ecstatic.  The  young 
couple  wondered  why  they  had  waited  so  long, 
since  everything  was  after  all  so  easy.  She  had 
thought  of  everything,  even  to  how  the  "  quiet- 
ness "  of  the  wedding  should  be  relieved  by 
champagne  and  her  father  kept  brilliant  on  a  sin- 
gle bottle.  Fleda  knew,  in  short,  and  liked  the 
knowledge,  that  for  several  weeks  she  had  ap- 
peared exemplary  in  every  relation  of  life. 

She  had  been  perfectly  prepared  to  be  surprised 
at  Ricks,  for  Mrs.  Gereth  was  a  wonder-working 
wizard,  with  a  command,  when  all  was  said,  of 
good  material ;  but  the  impression  in  wait  for  her 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  83 

on  the  threshold  made  her  catch  her  breath  and 
falter.  Dusk  had  fallen  when  she  arrived,  and  in 
the  plain  square  hall,  one  of  the  few  good  features, 
the  glow  of  a  Venetian  lamp  just  showed,  on 
either  wall,  the  richness  of  an  admirable  tapestry. 
This  instant  perception  that  the  place  had  been 
dressed  at  the  expense  of  Poynton  was  a  shock : 
it  was  as  if  she  had  abruptly  seen  herself  in  the 
light  of  an  accomplice.  The  next  moment,  folded 
in  Mrs.  Gereth's  arms,  her  eyes  were  diverted ; 
but  she  had  already  had,  in  a  flash,  the  vision  of 
the  great  gaps  in  the  other  house.  The  two  tap- 
estries, not  the  largest,  but  those  most  splendidly 
toned  by  time,  had  been  on  the  whole  its  most 
uplifted  pride.  When  she  could  really  see  again 
she  was  on  a  sofa  in  the  drawing-room,  staring 
with  intensity  at  an  object  soon  distinct  as  the 
great  Italian  cabinet  that,  at  Poynton,  had  been 
in  the  red  saloon.  Without  looking,  she  was 
sure  the  room  was  occupied  with  other  objects 
like  it,  stuffed  with  as  many  as  it  could  hold  of 
the  trophies  of  her  friend's  struggle.  By  this 
time  the  very  fingers  of  her  glove,  resting  on  the 
seat  of  the  sofa,  had  thrilled  at  the  touch  of  an 
old  velvet  brocade,  a  wondrous  texture  that  she 
could  recognize,  would  have  recognized  among  a 
thousand,  without  dropping  her  eyes  on  it.  They 
stuck  to  the  cabinet  with  a  kind  of  dissimulated 


84  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

dread,  while  she  painfully  asked  herself  whether 
she  should  notice  it,  notice  everything,  or  just 
pretend  not  to  be  affected.  How  could  she  pre- 
tend not  to  be  affected,  with  the  very  pendants  of 
the  lustres  tinkling  at  her  and  with  Mrs.  Gereth, 
beside  her  and  staring  at  her  even  as  she  herself 
stared  at  the  cabinet,  hunching  up  a  back  like 
Atlas  under  his  globe  ?  She  was  appalled  at  this 
image  of  what  Mrs.  Gereth  had  on  her  shoulders. 
That  lady  was  waiting  and  watching  her,  bracing 
herself,  and  preparing  the  same  face  of  confession 
and  defiance  she  had  shown  the  day,  at  Poynton, 
she  had  been  surprised  in  the  corridor.  It  was 
farcical  not  to  speak ;  and  yet  to  exclaim,  to  par- 
ticipate, would  give  one  a  bad  sense  of  being 
mixed  up  with  a  theft.  This  ugly  word  sounded, 
for  herself,  in  Fleda's  silence,  and  the  very  vio- 
lence of  it  jarred  her  into  a  scared  glance,  as  of  a 
creature  detected,  to  right  and  left.  But  what 
again  the  full  picture  most  showed  her  was  the 
far-away  empty  sockets,  a  scandal  of  nakedness 
in  high,  bare  walls.  She  at  last  uttered  some- 
thing formal  and  incoherent  —  she  did  n't  know 
what  :  it  had  no  relation  to  either  house.  Then 
she  felt  Mrs.  Gereth's  hand  once  more  on  her 
arm.  "  I  Ve  arranged  a  charming  room  for  you  — 
it 's  really  lovely.  You'll  be  very  happy  there." 
This  was  spoken  with  extraordinary  sweetness 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  85 

and  with  a  smile  that  meant,  "  Oh,  I  know  what 
you  're  thinking ;  but  what  does  it  matter  when 
you  're  so  loyally  on  my  side  ? "  It  had  come 
indeed  to  a  question  of  "  sides,"  Fleda  thought, 
for  the  whole  place  was  in  battle  array.  In  the 
soft  lamplight,  with  one  fine  feature  after  another 
looming  up  into  sombre  richness,  it  defied  her 
not  to  pronounce  it  a  triumph  of  taste.  Her 
passion  for  beauty  leaped  back  into  life  ;  and  was 
not  what  now  most  appealed  to  it  a  certain  gor- 
geous audacity?  Mrs.  Gereth's  high  hand  was, 
as  mere  great  effect,  the  climax  of  the  impression. 

"It's  too  wonderful,  what  you've  done  with 
the  house  !  "  —  the  visitor  met  her  friend's  eyes. 
They  lighted  up  with  joy  —  that  friend  herself  so 
pleased  with  what  she  had  done.  This  was  not 
at  all,  in  its  accidental  air  of  enthusiasm,  what 
Fleda  wanted  to  have  said  :  it  offered  her  as 
stupidly  announcing  from  the  first  minute  on 
whose  side  she  was.  Such  was  clearly  the  way 
Mrs.  Gereth  took  it :  she  threw  herself  upon  the 
delightful  girl  and  tenderly  embraced  her  again  ; 
so  that  Fleda  soon  went  on,  with  a  studied  differ- 
ence and  a  cooler  inspection  :  "  Why,  you  brought 
away  absolutely  everything  !  " 

"  Oh  no,  not  everything ;  I  saw  how  little  I 
could  get  into  this  scrap  of  a  house.  I  only 
brought  away  what  I  required." 


86  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

Fleda  had  got  up ;  she  took  a  turn  round  the 
room.  "  You  '  required  '  the  very  best  pieces  — 
the  morceaux  de  musfe,  the  individual  gems  ! " 

"  I  certainly  did  n't  want  the  rubbish,  if  that 's 
what  you  mean."  Mrs.  Gereth,  on  the  sofa,  fol- 
lowed the  direction  of  her  companion's  eyes ; 
with  the  light  of  her  satisfaction  still  in  her  face, 
she  slowly  rubbed  her  large,  handsome  hands. 
Wherever  she  was,  she  was  herself  the  great 
piece  in  the  gallery.  It  was  the  first  Fleda  had 
heard  of  there  being  "  rubbish  "  at  Poynton,  but 
she  did  n't  for  the  moment  take  up  this  insincer- 
ity ;  she  only,  from  where  she  stood  in  the  room, 
called  out,  one  after  the  other,  as  if  she  had  had 
a  list  in  her  hand,  the  pieces  that  in  the  great 
house  had  been  scattered  and  that  now,  if  they 
had  a  fault,  were  too  much  like  a  minuet  danced 
on  a  hearth-rug.  She  knew  them  each,  in  every 
chink  and  charm  —  knew  them  by  the  personal 
name  their  distinctive  sign  or  story  had  given 
them  ;  and  a  second  time  she  felt  how,  against 
her  intention,  this  uttered  knowledge  struck  her 
hostess  as  so  much  free  approval.  Mrs.  Gereth 
was  never  indifferent  to  approval,  and  there  was 
nothing  she  could  so  love  you  for  as  for  doing 
justice  to  her  deep  morality.  There  was  a  partic- 
ular gleam  in  her  eyes  when  Fleda  exclaimed  at 
last,  dazzled  by  the  display:  "  And  even  the 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  8? 

Maltese  cross  !  "  That  description,  though  tech- 
nically incorrect,  had  always  been  applied,  at 
Poynton,  to  a  small  but  marvelous  crucifix  of 
ivory,  a  masterpiece  of  delicacy,  of  expression, 
and  of  the  great  Spanish  period,  the  existence 
and  precarious  accessibility  of  which  she  had 
heard  of  at  Malta,  years  before,  by  an  odd  and 
romantic  chance  —  a  clue  followed  through  mazes 
of  secrecy  till  the  treasure  was  at  last  unearthed. 

"  '  Even  '  the  Maltese  cross  ?  "  Mrs.  Gereth 
rose  as  she  sharply  echoed  the  words.  "  My 
dear  child,  you  don't  suppose  I  'd  have  sacrificed 
that !  For  what  in  the  world  would  you  have 
taken  me  ?  " 

"  A  bibelot  the  more  or  the  less,"  Fleda  said, 
"  could  have  made  little  difference  in  this  grand 
general  view  of  you.  I  take  you  simply  for  the 
greatest  of  all  conjurers.  You  Ve  operated  with 
a  quickness  —  and  with  a  quietness ! "  Her 
voice  trembled  a  little  as  she  spoke,  for  the  plain 
meaning  of  her  words  was  that  what  her  friend 
had  achieved  belonged  to  the  class  of  operation 
essentially  involving  the  protection  of  darkness. 
Fleda  felt  she  really  could  say  nothing  at  all  if 
she  could  n't  say  that  she  knew  what  the  danger 
had  been.  She  completed  her  thought  by  a 
resolute  and  perfectly  candid  question  :  "  How 
in  the  world  did  you  get  off  with  them  ? " 


88  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

Mrs.  Gereth  confessed  to  the  fact  of  danger 
with  a  cynicism  that  surprised  the  girl.  "  By 
calculating,  by  choosing  my  time.  I  was  quiet, 
and  I  was  quick.  I  manoeuvred  ;  then  at  the  last 
rushed  !  "  Fleda  drew  a  long  breath  :  she  saw  in 
the  poor  woman  something  much  better  than 
sophistical  ease,  a  crude  elation  that  was  a  com- 
paratively simple  state  to  deal  with.  Her  elation, 
it  was  true,  was  not  so  much  from  what  she  had 
done  as  from  the  way  she  had  done  it  —  by  as 
brilliant  a  stroke  as  any  commemorated  in  the 
annals  of  crime.  "I  succeeded  because  I  had 
thought  it  all  out  and  left  nothing  to  chance  : 
the  whole  process  was  organized  in  advance,  so 
that  the  mere  carrying  it  into  effect  took  but  a 
few  hours.  It  was  largely  a  matter  of  money  : 
oh,  I  was  horribly  extravagant  —  I  had  to  turn 
on  so  many  people.  But  they  were  all  to  be  had 
—  a  little  army  of  workers,  the  packers,  the 
porters,  the  helpers  of  every  sort,  the  men  with 
the  mighty  vans.  It  was  a  question  of  arranging 
in  Tottenham  Court  Road  and  of  paying  the 
price.  I  have  n't  paid  it  yet  ;  there  '11  be  a  hor- 
rid bill ;  but  at  least  the  thing  's  done !  Expedi- 
tion pure  and  simple  was  the  essence  of  the 
bargain.  *  I  can  give  you  two  days,'  I  said  ;  '  I 
can't  give  you  another  second.'  They  undertook 
the  job,  and  the  two  days  saw  them  through. 


THE   SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  89 

The  people  came  down  on  a  Tuesday  morning; 
they  were  off  on  the  Thursday.  I  admit  that 
some  of  them  worked  all  Wednesday  night.  I  had 
thought  it  all  out  ;  I  stood  over  them  ;  I  showed 
them  how.  Yes,  I  coaxed  them,  I  made  love  to 
them.  Oh,  I  was  inspired  —  they  found  me 
wonderful.  I  neither  ate  nor  slept,  but  I  was  as 
calm  as  I  am  now.  I  did  n't  know  what  was  in 
me  ;  it  was  worth  finding  out.  I  Jm  very  remark- 
able, my  dear  :  I  lifted  tons  with  my  own  arms. 
I  'm  tired,  very,  very  tired ;  but  there 's  neither  a 
scratch  nor  a  nick,  there  is  n't  a  teacup  missing." 
Magnificent  both  in  her  exhaustion  and  in  her 
triumph,  Mrs.  Gereth  sank  on  the  sofa  again,  the 
sweep  of  her  eyes  a  rich  synthesis  and  the  rest- 
less friction  of  her  hands  a  clear  betrayal. 
"  Upon  my  word,"  she  laughed,  "  they  really  look 
better  here  ! " 

Fleda  had  listened  in  awe.  "And  no  one  at 
Poynton  said  anything  ?  There  was  no  alarm  ? " 

"  What  alarm  should  there  have  been  ?  Owen 
left  me  almost  defiantly  alone  :  I  had  taken  a 
time  that  I  had  reason  to  believe  was  safe  from  a 
descent."  Fleda  had  another  wonder,  which  she 
hesitated  to  express  :  it  would  scarcely  do  to  ask 
Mrs.  Gereth  if  she  hadn't  stood  in  fear  of  her 
servants.  She  knew,  moreover,  some  of  the 
secrets  of  her  humorous  household  rule,  all  made 


90  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

up  of  shocks  to  shyness  and  provocations  to 
curiosity  —  a  diplomacy  so  artful  that  several  of 
the  maids  quite  yearned  to  accompany  her  to 
Ricks.  Mrs.  Gereth,  reading  sharply  the  whole 
of  her  visitor's  thought,  caught  it  up  with  fine 
frankness.  "  You  mean  that  I  was  watched  — 
that  he  had  his  myrmidons,  pledged  to  wire  him 
if  they  should  see  what  I  was  '  up  to '  ?  Pre- 
cisely. I  know  the  three  persons  you  have  in 
mind  :  I  had  them  in  mind  myself.  Well,  I  took 
a  line  with  them  —  I  settled  them." 

Fleda  had  had  no  one  in  particular  in  mind ; 
she  had  never  believed  in  the  myrmidons ;  but 
the  tone  in  which  Mrs.  Gereth  spoke  added  to 
her  suspense.  "  What  did  you  do  to  them  ?  " 

"  I  took  hold  of  them  hard  —  I  put  them  in  the 
forefront.  I  made  them  work." 

"To  move  the  furniture  ?  " 

"  To  help,  and  to  help  so  as  to  please  me. 
That  was  the  way  to  take  them  ;  it  was  what 
they  had  least  expected.  I  marched  up  to  them 
and  looked  each  straight  in  the  eye,  giving  him 
the  chance  to  choose  if  he  'd  gratify  me  or  gratify 
my  son.  He  gratified  me.  They  were  too 
stupid  !  " 

Mrs.  Gereth  massed  herself  there  more  and 
more  as  an  immoral  woman,  but  Fleda  had  to 
recognize  that  she  too  would  have  been  stupid 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  91 

and  she  too  would  have  gratified  her.  "And 
when  did  all  this  take  place  ?  " 

"  Only  last  week ;  it  seems  a  hundred  years. 
We  Ve  worked  here  as  fast  as  we  worked  there, 
but  I  'm  not  settled  yet :  you  '11  see  in  the  rest  of 
the  house.  However,  the  worst  is  over." 

"  Do  you  really  think  so  ?  "  Fleda  presently 
inquired.  "  I  mean,  does  he,  after  the  fact,  as  it 
were,  accept  it  ?  " 

"  Owen  —  what  I  Ve  done  ?  I  have  n't  the 
least  idea,"  said  Mrs.  Gereth. 

"Does  Mona?" 

"  You  mean  that  she  '11  be  the  soul  of  the 
row  ? " 

"  I  hardly  see  Mona  as  the  '  soul '  of  anything," 
the  girl  replied.  "But  have  they  made  no 
sound  ?  Have  you  heard  nothing  at  all  ?  " 

"  Not  a  whisper,  not  a  step,  in  all  the  eight 
days.  Perhaps  they  don't  know.  Perhaps 
they're  crouching  for  a  leap." 

"  But  would  n't  they  have  gone  down  as  soon 
as  you  left  ?" 

"They  may  not  have  known  of  my  leaving." 
Fleda  wondered  afresh ;  it  struck  her  as  scarcely 
supposable  that  some  sign  should  n't  have  flashed 
from  Poynton  to  London.  If  the  storm  was 
taking  this  term  of  silence  to  gather,  even  in 
Mona's  breast,  it  would  probably  discharge  itself 


92  TIfE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

in  some  startling  form.  The  great  hush  of  every 
one  concerned  was  strange ;  but  when  she 
pressed  Mrs.  Gereth  for  some  explanation  of  it, 
that  lady  only  replied,  with  her  brave  irony  : 
"  Oh,  I  took  their  breath  away !  "  She  had  no 
illusions,  however ;  she  was  still  prepared  to 
fight.  What  indeed  was  her  spoliation  of 
Poynton  but  the  first  engagement  of  a  campaign  ? 
All  this  was  exciting,  but  Fleda's  spirit  dropped, 
at  bedtime,  in  the  chamber  embellished  for  her 
pleasure,*  where  she  found  several  of  the  objects 
that  in  her  earlier  room  she  had  most  admired. 
These  had  been  reinforced  by  other  pieces  from 
other  rooms,  so  that  the  quiet  air  of  it  was  a 
harmony  without  a  break,  the  finished  picture  of 
a  maiden's  bower.  It  was  the  sweetest  Louis 
Seize,  all  assorted  and  combined  —  old  chastened, 
figured,  faded  France.  Fleda  was  impressed 
anew  with  her  friend's  genius  for  composition. 
She  could  say  to  herself  that  no  girl  in  England, 
that  night,  went  to  rest  with  so  picked  a  guard  ; 
but  there  was  no  joy  for  her  in  her  privilege,  no 
sleep  even  for  the  tired  hours  that  made  the 
place,  in  the  embers  of  the  fire  and  the  winter 
dawn,  look  gray,  somehow,  and  loveless.  She 
could  n't  care  for  such  things  when  they  came  to 
her  in  such  ways  ;  there  was  a  wrong  about  them 
all  that  turned  them  to  ugliness.  In  the  watches 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  93 

of  the  night  she  saw  Poynton  dishonored;  she 
had  cared  for  it  as  a  happy  whole,  she  reasoned, 
and  the  parts  of  it  now  around  her  seemed  to 
suffer  like  chopped  limbs.  Before  going  to  bed 
she  had  walked  about  with  Mrs.  Gereth  and  seen 
at  whose  expense  the  whole  house  had  been 
furnished.  At  poor  Owen's,  from  top  to  bottom 
—  there  was  n't  a  chair  he  had  n't  sat  upon. 
The  maiden  aunt  had  been  exterminated  —  no 
trace  of  her  to  tell  her  tale.  Fleda  tried  to  think 
of  some  of  the  things  at  Poynton  still  unappropri- 
ated, but  her  memory  was  a  blank  about  them, 
and  in  trying  to  focus  the  old  combinations  she 
saw  again  nothing  but  gaps  and  scars,  a  vacancy 
that  gathered  at  moments  into  something  worse. 
This  concrete  image  was  her  greatest  trouble,  for 
it  was  Owen  Gereth 's  face,  his  sad,  strange  eyes, 
fixed  upon  her  now  as  they  had  never  been. 
They  stared  at  her  out  of  the  darkness,  and  their 
expression  was  more  than  she  could  bear :  it 
seemed  to  say  that  he  was  in  pain  and  that 
it  was  somehow  her  fault.  He  had  looked 
to  her  to  help  him,  and  this  was  what  her  help 
had  been.  He  had  done  her  the  honor  to  ask 
her  to  exert  herself  in  his  interest,  confiding 
to  her  a  task  of  difficulty,  but  of  the  highest 
delicacy.  Hadn't  that  been  exactly  the  sort  of 
service  she  longed  to  render  him  ?  Well, 


94  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

her  way  of  rendering  it  had  been  simply  to 
betray  him  and  hand  him  over  to  his  enemy. 
Shame,  pity,  resentment  oppressed  her  in  turn ; 
in  the  last  of  these  feelings  the  others  were 
quickly  submerged.  Mrs.  Gereth  had  imprisoned 
her  in  that  torment  of  taste ;  but  it  was  clear  to 
her  for  an  hour  at  least  that  she. might  hate  Mrs. 
Gereth. 

Something  else,  however,  when  morning  came, 
was  even  more  intensely  definite  :  the  most  odious 
thing  in  the  world  for  her  would  be  ever  again  to 
meet  Owen.  She  took  on  the  spot  a  resolve  to 
neglect  no  precaution  that  could  lead  to  her  going 
through  life  without  that  accident.  After  this, 
while  she  dressed,  she  took  still  another.  Her 
position  had  become,  in  a  few  hours,  intolerably 
false  ;  in  as  few  more  hours  as  possible  she  would 
therefore  put  an  end  to  it.  The  way  to  put  an 
end  to  it  would  be  to  inform  Mrs.  Gereth  that,  to 
her  great  regret,  she  could  n't  be  with  her  now, 
could  n't  cleave  to  her  to  the  point  that  everything 
about  her  so  plainly  urged.  She  dressed  with  a 
sort  of  violence,  a  symbol  of  the  manner  in  which 
this  purpose  was  precipitated.  The  more  they 
parted  company  the  less  likely  she  was  to  come 
across  Owen ;  for  Owen  would  be  drawn  closer  to 
his  mother  now  by  the  very  necessity  of  bringing 
her  down.  Fleda,  in  the  inconsequence  of  dis- 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  95 

tress,  wished  to  have  nothing  to  do  witti  her  fall ; 
she  had  had  too  much  to  do  with  everything. 
She  was  well  aware  of  the  importance,  before 
breakfast  and  in  view  of  any  light  they  might 
shed  on  the  question  of  motive,  of  not  suffering 
her  invidious  expression  of  a  difference  to  be 
accompanied  by  the  traces  of  tears ;  but  it  none 
the  less  came  to  pass,  downstairs,  that  after  she 
had  subtly  put  her  back  to  the  window,  to  make 
a  mystery  of  the  state  of  her  eyes,  she  stupidly  let 
a  rich  sob  escape  her  before  she  could  properly 
meet  the  consequences  of  being  asked  if  she 
was  n't  delighted  with  her  room.  This  accident 
struck  her  on  the  spot  as  so  grave  that  she  felt 
the  only  refuge  to  be  instant  hypocrisy,  some 
graceful  impulse  that  would  charge  her  emotion 
to  the  quickened  sense  of  her  friend's  generosity 
—  a  demonstration  entailing  a  flutter  round  the 
table  and  a  renewed  embrace,  and  not  so  success- 
fully improvised  but  that  Fleda  fancied  Mrs. 
Gereth  to  have  been  only  half  reassured.  She 
had  been  startled,  at  any  rate,  and  she  might 
remain  suspicious :  this  reflection  interposed  by 
the  time,  after  breakfast,  the  girl  had  recovered 
sufficiently  to  say  what  was  in  her  heart.  She 
accordingly  did  n't  say  it  that  morning  at  all :  she 
had  absurdly  veered  about ;  she  had  encountered 
the  shock  of  the  fear  that  Mrs.  Gereth,  with 


96  THE  SPOILS   OF  POYNTON 

sharpened  eyes,  might  wonder  why  the  deuce  (she 
often  wondered  in  that  phrase)  she  had  grown  so 
warm  about  Owen's  rights.  She  would  doubtless, 
at  a  pinch,  be  able  to  defend  them  on  abstract 
grounds,  but  that  would  involve  a  discussion,  and 
the  idea  of  a  discussion  made  her  nervous  for  her 
secret.  Until  in  some  way  Poynton  should  return 
the  blow  and  give  her  a  cue,  she  must  keep 
nervousness  down ;  and  she  called  herself  a  fool 
for  having  forgotten, '  however  briefly,  that  her 
one  safety  was  in  silence. 

Directly  after  luncheon  Mrs.  Gereth  took  her 
into  the  garden  for  a  glimpse  of  the  revolution  — 
or  at  least,  said  the  mistress  of  Ricks,  of  the 
great  row  —  that  had  been  decreed  there ;  but  the 
ladies  had  scarcely  placed  themselves  for  this  view 
before  the  younger  one  found  herself  embracing 
a  prospect  that  opened  in  quite  another  quarter. 
Her  attention  was  called  to  it,  oddly,  by  the 
streamers  of  the  parlor-maid's  cap,  which,  flying 
straight  behind  the  neat  young  woman  who  unex- 
pectedly burst  from  the  house  and  showed  a  long 
red  face  as  she  ambled  over  the  grass,  seemed  to 
articulate  in  their  flutter  the  name  that  Fleda 
lived  at  present  only  to  catch.  "Poynton  — 
Poynton  !  "  said  the  morsels  of  muslin  ; '  so  that 
the  parlor-maid  became  on  the  instant  an  actress 
in  the  drama,  and  Fleda,  assuming  pusillani- 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  97 

mously  that  she  herself  was  only  a  spectator, 
looked  across  the  footlights  at  the  exponent  of 
the  principal  part.  The  manner  in  which  this 
artist  returned  her  look  showed  that  she  was 
equally  preoccupied.  Both  were  haunted  alike 
by  possibilities,  but  the  apprehension  of  neither, 
before  the  announcement  was  made,  took  the 
form  of  the  arrival  at  Ricks,  in  the  flesh,  of  Mrs. 
Gereth's  victim.  When  the  messenger  informed 
them  that  Mr.  Gereth  was  in  the  drawing-room, 
the  blank  "  Oh  !  "  emitted  by  Fleda  was  quite  as 
precipitate  as  the  sound  on  her  hostess's  lips, 
besides  being,  as  she  felt,  much  less  pertinent. 
"I  thought  it  would  be  somebody,"  that  lady 
afterwards  said ;  "  but  I  expected  on  the  whole  a 
solicitor's  clerk."  Fleda  didn't  mention  that  she 
herself  had  expected  on  the  whole  a  pair  of 
constables.  She  was  surprised  by  Mrs.  Gereth's 
question  to  the  parlor-maid. 

"  For  whom  did  he  ask  ? " 

"  Why,  for  you,  of  course,  dearest  friend ! " 
Fleda  interjected,  falling  instinctively  into  the 
address  that  embodied  the  intensest  pressure. 
She  wanted  to  put  Mrs.  Gereth  between  her  and 
her  danger. 

"He  asked  for  Miss  Vetch,  mum,"  the  girl 
replied,  with  a  face  that  brought  startlingly  to 
Fleda' s  ear  the  muffled  chorus  of  the  kitchen. 


98  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

"  Quite  proper,"  said  Mrs.  Gereth  austerely. 
Then  to  Fleda :  "  Please  go  to  him." 

"But  what  to  do?" 

"What  you  always  do  —  to  see  what  he  wants." 
Mrs.  Gereth  dismissed  the  maid.  "  Tell  him  Miss 
Vetch  will  come."  Fleda  saw  that  nothing  was 
in  the  mother's  imagination  at  this  moment  but 
the  desire  not  to  meet  her  son.  She  had  com- 
pletely broken  with  him,  and  there  was  little  in 
what  had  just  happened  to  repair  the  rupture.  It 
would  now  take  more  to  do  so  than  his  present- 
ing himself  uninvited  at  her  door.  "  He 's  right 
in  asking  for  you  —  he's  aware  that  you're  still 
our  communicator  ;  nothing  has  occurred  to  alter 
that.  To  what  he  wishes  to  transmit  through  you 
I  'm  ready,  as  I  've  been  ready  before,  to  listen. 
As  far  as  I'm  concerned,  if  I  couldn't  meet  him 
a  month  ago,  how  am  I  to  meet  him  to-day  ?  If 
he  has  come  to  say,  'My  dear  mother,  you're 
here,  in  the  hovel  into  which  I  've  flung  you,  with 
consolations  that  give  me  pleasure,'  I  '11  listen  to 
him ;  but  on  no  other  footing.  That 's  what 
you  're  to  ascertain,  please.  You  '11  oblige  me  as 
you  've  obliged  me  before.  There  !  "  Mrs.  Gereth 
turned  her  back  and,  with  a  fine  imitation  of 
superiority,  began  to  redress  the  miseries  imme- 
diately before  her.  Fleda  meanwhile  hesitated, 
lingered  for  some  minutes  where  she  had  been 


THE  SPOILS   OF  POYNTON  99 

left,  feeling  secretly  that  her  fate  still  had  her  in 
hand.  It  had  put  her  face  to  face  with  Owen 
Gereth,  and  it  evidently  meant  to  keep  her  so. 
She  was  reminded  afresh  of  two  things :  one  of 
which  was  that,  though  she  judged  her  friend's 
rigor,  she  had  never  really  had  the  story  of  the 
scene  enacted  in  the  great  awestricken  house 
between  the  mother  and  the  son  weeks  before  — 
the  day  the  former  took  to  her  bed  in  her  over- 
throw ;  the  other  was,  that  at  Ricks  as  at  Poyn- 
ton,  it  was  before  all  things  her  place  to  accept 
thankfully  a  usefulness  not,  she  must  remember, 
universally  acknowledged.  What  determined  her 
at  the  last,  while  Mrs.  Gereth  disappeared  in  the 
shrubbery,  was  that,  though  she  was  at  a  distance 
from  the  house  and  the  drawing-room  was  turned 
the  other  way,  she  could  absolutely  see  the  young 
man  alone  there  with  the  sources  of  his  pain. 
She  saw  his  simple  stare  at  his  tapestries,  heard 
his  heavy  tread  on  his  carpets  and  the  hard 
breath  of  his  sense  of  unfairness.  At  this  she 
went  to  him  fast. 


VIII 

"  I  ASKED  for  you,"  he  said  when  she  stood 
there,  "because  I  heard  from  the  flyman  who 
drove  me  from  the  station  to  the  inn  that  he  had 
brought  you  here  yesterday.  We  had  some  talk, 
and  he  mentioned  it." 

"  You  did  n't  know  I  was  here  ?  " 

"  No.  I  knew  only  that  you  had  had,  in  Lon- 
don, all  that  you  told  me,  that  day,  to  do ;  and  it 
was  Mona's  idea  that  after  your  sister's  marriage 
you  were  staying  on  with  your  father.  So  I 
thought  you  were  with  him  still." 

"  I  am,"  Fleda  replied,  idealizing  a  little  the 
fact.  "  I  'm  here  only  for  a  moment.  But  do 
you  mean,"  she  went  on,  "  that  if  you  had  known 
I  was  with  your  mother  you  would  n't  have  come 
down  ? " 

The  way  Owen  hung  fire  at  this  question  made 
it  sound  more  playful  than  she  had  intended. 
She  had,  in  fact,  no  consciousness  of  any  inten- 
tion but  that  of  confining  herself  rigidly  to  her 
function.  She  could  already  see  that,  in  what- 
ever he  had  now  braced  himself  for,  she  was  an 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  IOI 

element  he  had  not  reckoned  with.  His  prepara- 
tion had  been  of  a  different  sort  —  the  sort  con- 
gruous with  his  having  been  careful  to  go  first 
and  lunch  solidly  at  the  inn.  He  had  not  been 
forced  to  ask  for  her,  but  she  became  aware,  in 
his  presence,  of  a  particular  desire  to  make  him 
feel  that  no  harm  could  really  come  to  him.  She 
might  upset  him,  as  people  called  it,  but  she 
would  take  no  advantage  of  having  done  so.  She 
had  never  seen  a  person  with  whom  she  wished 
more  to  be  light  and  easy,  to  be  exceptionally 
human.  The  account  he  presently  gave  of  the 
matter  was  that  he  indeed  would  n't  have  come  if 
he  had  known  she  was  on  the  spot ;  because 
then,  did  n't  she  see?  he  could  have  written  to 
her.  He  would  have  had  her  there  to  let  fly  at 
his  mother. 

"  That  would  have  saved  me  —  well,  it  would 
have  saved  me  a  lot.  Of  course  I  would  rather 
see  you  than  her,"  he  somewhat  awkwardly 
added.  "  When  the  fellow  spoke  of  you,  I  as- 
sure you  I  quite  jumped  at  you.  In  fact  I  've  no 
real  desire  to  see  Mummy  at  all.  If  she  thinks 
I  like  it — !"  He  sighed  disgustedly.  "I  only 
came  down  because  it  seemed  better  than  any 
other  way.  I  did  n't  want  her  to  be  able  to  say 
I  had  n't  been  all  right.  I  dare  say  you  know 
she  has  taken  everything ;  or  if  not  quite  every- 


IO2  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

thing,  why,  a  lot  more  than  one  ever  dreamed. 
You  can  see  for  yourself  —  she  has  got  half  the 
place  down.  She  has  got  them  crammed  —  you 
can  see  for  yourself  ! "  He  had  his  old  trick  of 
artless  repetition,  his  helpless  iteration  of  the 
obvious  ;  but  he  was  sensibly  different,  for  Fleda, 
if  only  by  the  difference  of  his  clear  face,  mot- 
tled over  and  almost  disfigured  by  little  points  of 
pain.  He  might  have  been  a  fine  young  man 
with  a  bad  toothache  ;  with  the  first  even  of  his 
life.  What  ailed  him  above  all,  she  felt,  was  that 
trouble  was  new  to  him  :  he  had  never  known  a 
difficulty  ;  he  had  taken  all  his  fences,  his  world 
wholly  the  world  of  the  personally  possible, 
rounded  indeed  by  a  gray  suburb  into  which  he 
had  never  had  occasion  to  stray.  In  this  vulgar 
and  ill-lighted  region  he  had  evidently  now  lost 
himself.  "  We  left  it  quite  to  her  honor,  you 
know,"  he  said  ruefully. 

"  Perhaps  you  've  a  right  to  say  that  you  left  it 
a  little  to  mine."  Mixed  up  with  the  spoils  there, 
rising  before  him  as  if  she  were  in  a  manner  their 
keeper,  she  felt  that  she  must  absolutely  disso- 
ciate herself.  Mrs.  Gereth  had  made  it  impossi- 
ble to  do  anything  but  give  her  away.  "I  can 
only  tell  you  that,  on  my  side,  I  left  it  to  her.  I 
never  dreamed  either  that  she  would  pick  out  so 
many  things." 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  103 

"  And  you  don't  really  think  it 's  fair,  do  you  ? 
You  don't !"  He  spoke  very  quickly  ;  he  really 
seemed  to  plead. 

Fleda  faltered  a  moment.  "I  think  she  has 
gone  too  far."  Then  she  added  :  "  I  shall  imme- 
diately tell  her  that  I  've  said  that  to  you." 

He  appeared  puzzled  by  this  statement,  but  he 
presently  rejoined:  "You  haven't  then  said  to 
mamma  what  you  think  ?  " 

"  Not  yet ;  remember  that  I  only  got  here  last 
night."  She  appeared  to  herself  ignobly  weak. 
"  I  had  had  no  idea  what  she  was  doing ;  I  was 
taken  completely  by  surprise.  She  managed  it 
wonderfully." 

"  It 's  the  sharpest  thing  I  ever  saw  in  my 
life ! "  They  looked  at  each  other  with  intelli- 
gence, in  appreciation  of  the  sharpness,  and 
Owen  quickly  broke  into  a  loud  laugh.  The 
laugh  was  in  itself  natural,  but  the  occasion  of  it 
strange  ;  and  stranger  still,  to  Fleda,  so  that  she 
too  almost  laughed,  the  inconsequent  charity 
with  which  he  added  :  "  Poor  dear  old  Mummy  ! 
That 's  one  of  the  reasons  I  asked  for  you,"  he 
went  on  —  "  to  see  if  you  'd  back  her  up." 

Whatever  he  said  or  did,  she  somehow  liked 
him  the  better  for  it.  "  How  can  I  back  her  up, 
Mr.  Gereth,  when  I  think,  as  I  tell  you,  that  she 
has  made  a  great  mistake  ? " 


IO4  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

"A  great  mistake!  That's  all  right."  He 
spoke  —  it  was  n't  clear  to  her  why  —  as  if  this 
declaration  were  a  great  point  gained. 

"  Of  course  there  are  many  things  she  has  n't 
taken,"  Fleda  continued. 

"  Oh  yes,  a  lot  of  things.  But  you  would  n't 
know  the  place,  all  the  same."  He  looked  about 
the  room  with  his  discolored,  swindled  face, 
which  deepened  Fleda' s  compassion  for  him,  con- 
juring away  any  smile  at  so  candid  an  image  of 
the  dupe.  "  You  'd  know  this  one  soon  enough, 
wouldn't  you?  These  are  just  the  things  she 
ought  to  have  left.  Is  the  whole  house  full  of 
them  ? " 

"The  whole  house,"  said  Fleda  uncompromis- 
ingly. She  thought  of  her  lovely  room. 

"I  never  knew  how  much  I  cared  for  them. 
They  're  awfully  valuable,  are  n't  they  ? "  Owen's 
manner  mystified  her ;  she  was  conscious  of  a 
return  of  the  agitation  he  had  produced  in  her 
on  that  last  bewildering  day,  and  she  reminded 
herself  that,  now  she  was  warned,  it  would  be 
inexcusable  of  her  to  allow  him  to  justify  the 
fear  that  had  dropped  on  her.  "  Mother  thinks 
I  never  took  any  notice,  but  I  assure  you  I  was 
awfully  proud  of  everything.  Upon  my  honor,  I 
was  proud,  Miss  Vetch." 

There  was  an  oddity  in   his  helplessness  ;  he 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  105 

appeared  to  wish  to  persuade  her  and  to  satisfy 
himself  that  she  sincerely  felt  how  worthy  he 
really  was  to  treat  what  had  happened  as  an  in- 
jury. She  could  only  exclaim,  almost  as  help- 
lessly as  himself :  "  Of  course  you  did  justice ! 
It 's  all  most  painful.  I  shall  instantly  let  your 
mother  know,"  she  again  declared,  "the  way  I've 
spoken  of  her  to  you."  She  clung  to  that  idea 
as  to  the  sign  of  her  straightness. 

"  You  '11  tell  her  what  you  think  she  ought  to 
do  ?"  he  asked  with  some  eagerness. 

"  What  she  ought  to  do  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  think  it  —  I  mean  that  she  ought 
to  give  them  up  ? " 

"To  give  them  up ? "  Fleda  hesitated  again. 

"  To  send  them  back  —  to  keep  it  quiet."  The 
girl  had  not  felt  the  impulse  to  ask  him  to  sit 
down  among  the  monuments  of  his  wrong,  so 
that,  nervously,  awkwardly,  he  fidgeted  about  the 
room  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  an  effect 
of  returning  a  little  into  possession  through  the 
formulation  of  his  view.  "  To  have  them  packed 
and  dispatched  again,  since  she  knows  so  well 
how.  She  does  it  beautifully  "  — he  looked  close 
at  two  or  three  precious  pieces.  "  What 's  sauce 
for  the  goose  is  sauce  for  the  gander  ! " 

He  had  laughed  at  his  way  of  putting  it,  but 
Fleda  remained  grave.  "  Is  that  what  you  came 
to  say  to  her  ? " 


106  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

"  Not  exactly  those  words.  But  I  did  come  to 
say  "  —  he  stammered,  then  brought  it  out  —  "I 
did  come  to  say  we  must  have  them  right  back." 

"  And  did  you  think  your  mother  would  see 
you?" 

"  I  was  n't  sure,  but  I  thought  it  right  to  try  — 
to  put  it  to  her  kindly,  don't  you  see  ?  If  she 
won't  see  me,  then  she  has  herself  to  thank. 
The  only  other  way  would  have  been  to  set  the 
lawyers  at  her." 

"  I  'm  glad  you  did  n't  do  that." 

"  I  'm  dashed  if  I  want  to  !  "  Owen  honestly 
declared.  "  But  what 's  a  fellow  to  do  if  she 
won't  meet  a  fellow  ? " 

"What  do  you  call  meeting  a  fellow?"  Fleda 
asked,  with  a  smile. 

"  Why,  letting  me  tell  her  a  dozen  things  she 
can  have." 

This  was  a  transaction  that  Fleda,  after  a  mo- 
ment, had  to  give  up  trying  to  represent  to  her- 
self. "  If  she  won't  do  that —  ? "  she  went  on. 

"  I  '11  leave  it  all  to  my  solicitor.  He  won't  let 
her  off :  by  Jove,  I  know  the  fellow  !  " 

"  That 's  horrible !  "  said  Fleda,  looking  at  him 
in  woe. 

"  It 's  utterly  beastly  !  " 

His  want  of  logic  as  well  as  his  vehemence 
startled  her ;  and  with  her  eyes  still  on  his  she 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

considered  before  asking  him  the  question  these 
things  suggested.  At  last  she  asked  it.  "Is 
Mona  very  angry  ? " 

"  Oh  dear,  yes  ! "  said  Owen. 

She  had  perceived  that  he  would  n't  speak  of 
Mona  without  her  beginning.  After  waiting 
fruitlessly  now  for  him  to  say  more,  she  contin- 
ued :  "  She  has  been  there  again  ?  She  has  seen 
the  state  of  the  house  ? " 

"  Oh  dear,  yes  !  "  Owen  repeated. 

Fleda  disliked  to  appear  not  to  take  account  of 
his  brevity,  but  it  was  just  because  she  was 
struck  by  it  that  she  felt  the  pressure  of  the 
desire  to  know  more.  What  it  suggested  was 
simply  what  her  intelligence  supplied,  for  he  was 
incapable  of  any  art  of  insinuation.  Was  n't  it 
at  all  events  the  rule  of  communication  with  him 
to  say  for  him  what  he  could  n't  say  ?  This  truth 
was  present  to  the  girl  as  she  inquired  if  Mona 
greatly  resented  what  Mrs.  Gereth  had  done. 
He  satisfied  her  promptly ;  he  was  standing  be- 
fore the  fire,  his  back  to  it,  his  long  legs  apart, 
his  hands,  behind  him,  rather  violently  jiggling 
his  gloves.  "  She  hates  it  awfully.  In  fact,  she 
refuses  to  put  up  with  it  at  all.  Don't  you  see  ? 
—  she  saw  the  place  with  all  the  things." 

"So  that  of  course  she  misses  them." 

"  Misses    them  —  rather !      She    was    awfully 


IO8  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

sweet  on  them."  Fleda  remembered  how  sweet 
Mona  had  been,  and  reflected  that  if  that  was 
the  sort  of  plea  he  had  prepared  it  was  indeed  as 
well  he  shouldn't  see  his  mother.  This  was  not 
all  she  wanted  to  know,  but  it  came  over  her  that 
it  was  all  she  needed.  "  You  see  it  puts  me  in 
the  position  of  not  carrying  out  what  I  promised," 
Owen  said.  "  As  she  says  herself  "  —  he  hesi- 
tated an  instant  —  "  it 's  just  as  if  I  had  obtained 
her  under  false  pretenses."  Just  before,  when 
he  spoke  with  more  drollery  than  he  knew,  it  had 
left  Fleda  serious  ;  but  now  his  own  clear  gravity 
had  the  effect  of  exciting  her  mirth.  She  laughed 
out,  and  he  looked  surprised,  but  went  on  :  "  She 
regards  it  as  a  regular  sell." 

Fleda  was  silent ;  but  finally,  as  he  added  no- 
thing, she  exclaimed :  "  Of  course  it  makes  a 
great  difference  ! "  She  knew  all  she  needed, 
but  none  the  less  she  risked,  after  another  pause, 
an  interrogative  remark.  "  I  forget  when  it  is 
that  your  marriage  takes  place  ?  " 

Owen  came  away  from  the  fire  and,  apparently 
at  a  loss  where  to  turn,  ended  by  directing  him- 
self to  one  of  the  windows.  "  It 's  a  little  uncer- 
tain ;  the  date  is  n't  quite  fixed." 

"  Oh,  I  thought  I  remembered  that  at  Poynton 
you  had  told  me  a  day,  and  that  it  was  near  at 
hand." 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  1 09 

"I  dare  say  I  did;  it  was  for  the  iQth.  But 
we  Ve  altered  that  —  she  wants  to  shift  it."  He 
looked  out  of  the  window ;  then  he  said :  "  In 
fact,  it  won't  come  off  till  Mummy  has  come 
round." 

"  Come  round  ?  " 

"  Put  the  place  as  it  was."  In  his  offhand  way 
he  added  :  "  You  know  what  I  mean  !  " 

He  spoke  not  impatiently,  but  with  a  kind  of 
intimate  familiarity,  the  sweetness  of  which  made 
her  feel  a  pang  for  having  forced  him  to  tell  her 
what  was  embarrassing  to  him,  what  was  even 
humiliating.  Yes  indeed,  she  knew  all  she 
needed :  all  she  needed  was  that  Mona  had 
proved  apt  at  putting  down  that  wonderful  pat- 
ent-leather foot.  Her  type  was  misleading  only 
to  the  superficial,  and  no  one  in  the  world  was 
less  superficial  than  Fleda.  She  had  guessed 
the  truth  at  Waterbath  and  she  had  suffered 
from  it  at  Poynton  ;  at  Ricks  the  only  thing  she 
could  do  was  to  accept  it  with  the  dumb  exalta- 
tion that  she  felt  rising.  Mona  had  been  prompt 
with  her  exercise  of  the  member  in  question,  for 
it  might  be  called  prompt  to  do  that  sort  of  thing 
before  marriage.  That  she  had  indeed  been  pre- 
mature who  should  say  save  those  who  should 
have  read  the  matter  in  the  full  light  of  results  ? 
Neither  at  Waterbath  nor  at  Poynton  had  even 


110  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

Fleda's  thoroughness  discovered  all  that  there 
was — or  rather,  all  that  there  was  not  —  in 
Owen  Gereth.  "  Of  course  it  makes  all  the  dif- 
ference ! "  she  said  in  answer  to  his  last  words. 
She  pursued,  after  considering  :  "What  you  wish 
me  to  say  from  you  then  to  your  mother  is  that 
you  demand  immediate  and  practically  complete 
restitution  ? " 

"  Yes,  please.  It 's  tremendously  good  of 
you." 

"  Very  well,  then.     Will  you  wait  ?  " 

"  For  Mummy's  answer  ?  "  Owen  stared  and 
looked  perplexed  ;  he  was  more  and  more  fevered 
with  so  much  vivid  expression  of  his  case. 
"  Don't  you  think  that  if  I  'm  here  she  may  hate 
it  worse  —  think  I  may  want  to  make  her  reply 
bang  off?" 

Fleda  thought.     "  You  don't,  then  ? " 

"I  want  to  take  her  in  the  right  way,  don't 
you  know?  —  treat  her  as  if  I  gave  her  more 
than  just  an  hour  or  two." 

"  I  see,"  said  Fleda.  "  Then,  if  you  don't  wait 
—  good-bye." 

This  again  seemed  not  what  he  wanted.  "  Must 
you  do  it  bang  off  ?  " 

"  I  'm  only  thinking  she  '11  be  impatient  —  I 
mean,  y6u  know,  to  learn  what  will  have  passed 
between  us." 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  III 

"  I  see,"  said  Owen,  looking  at  his  gloves.  "  I 
can  give  her  a  day  or  two,  you  know.  Of  course 
I  did  n't  come  down  to  sleep,"  he  went  on.  "  The 
inn  seems  a  horrid  hole.  I  know  all  about  the 
trains  —  having  no  idea  you  were  here."  Almost 
as  soon  as  his  interlocutress  he  was  struck  with 
the  absence  of  the  visible,  in  this,  as  between 
effect  and  cause.  "  I  mean  because  in  that  case 
I  should  have  felt  I  could  stop  over.  I  should 
have  felt  I  could  talk  with  you  a  blessed  sight 
longer  than  with  Mummy." 

"We've  already  talked  a  long  time,"  smiled 
Fleda. 

"  Awfully,  have  n't  we  ?  "  He  spoke  with  the 
stupidity  she  did  n't  object  to.  Inarticulate  as 
he  was,  he  had  more  to  say;  he  lingered  per- 
haps because  he  was  vaguely  aware  of  the  want 
of  sincerity  in  her  encouragement  to  him  to  go. 
"There's  one  thing,  please,"  he  mentioned,  as  if 
there  might  be  a  great  many  others  too.  "  Please 
don't  say  anything  about  Mona." 

She  did  n't  understand.     "  About  Mona  ? " 

"  About  its  being  her  that  thinks  she  has  gone 
too  far."  This  was  still  slightly  obscure,  but  now 
Fleda  understood.  "It  mustn't  seem  to  come 
from  her  at  all,  don't  you  know?  That  would 
only  make  Mummy  worse." 

Fleda  knew  exactly  how  much  worse,  but  she 


112  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

felt  a  delicacy  about  explicitly  assenting  :  she  was 
already  immersed  moreover  in  the  deep  consider- 
ation of  what  might  make  "Mummy"  better. 
She  couldn't  see  as  yet  at  all;  she  could  only 
clutch  at  the  hope  of  some  inspiration  after  he 
should  go.  Oh,  there  was  a  remedy,  to  be  sure, 
but  it  was  out  of  the  question  ;  in  spite  of  which, 
in  the  strong  light  of  Owen's  troubled  presence, 
of  his  anxious  face  and  restless  step,  it  hung 
there  before  her  for  some  minutes.  She  felt 
that,  remarkably,  beneath  the  decent  rigor  of  his 
errand,  the  poor  young  man,  for  reasons,  for 
weariness,  for  disgust,  would  have  been  ready  not 
to  insist.  His  fitness  to  fight  his  mother  had  left 
him  —  he  wasn't  in  fighting  trim.  He  had  no 
natural  avidity  and  even  no  special  wrath  ;  he  had 
none  that  had  not  been  taught  him,  and  it  was 
doing  his  best  to  learn  the  lesson  that  had  made 
him  so  sick.  He  had  his  delicacies,  but  he  hid 
them  away  like  presents  before  Christmas.  He 
was  hollow,  perfunctory,  pathetic  ;  he  had  been 
girded  by  another  hand.  That  hand  had  naturally 
been  Mona's,  and  it  was  heavy  even  now  on  his 
strong,  broad  back.  Why  then  had  he  originally 
rejoiced  so  in  its  touch?  Fleda  dashed  aside 
this  question,  for  it  had  nothing  to  do  with  her 
problem.  Her  problem  was  to  help  him  to  live 
as  a  gentleman  and  carry  through  what  he  had 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  113 

undertaken  ;  her  problem  was  to  reinstate  him  in 
his  rights.  It  was  quite  irrelevant  that  Mona  had 
no  intelligence  of  what  she  had  lost  —  quite 
irrelevant  that  she  was  moved  not  by  the  priva- 
tion, but  by  the  insult :  she  had  every  reason  to 
be  moved,  though  she  was  so  much  more  movable, 
in  the  vindictive  way,  at  any  rate,  than  one  might 
have  supposed  —  assuredly  more  than  Owen  him- 
self had  imagined. 

"  Certainly  I  shall  not  mention  Mona,"  Fleda 
said,  "  and  there  won't  be  the  slightest  necessity 
for  it.  The  wrong  's  quite  sufficiently  yours,  and 
the  demand  you  make  is  perfectly  justified  by  it." 

"  I  can't  tell  you  what  it  is  to  me  to  feel  you 
on  my  side  !  "  Owen  exclaimed. 

"  Up  to  this  time,"  said  Fleda,  after  a  pause, 
"  your  mother  has  had  no  doubt  of  my  being  on 
hers." 

"Then  of  course  she  won't  like  your  chang- 
ing." 

"  I  dare  say  she  won't  like  it  at  all." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  '11  have  a  regular 
kick-up  with  her  ?  " 

"  I  don't  exactly  know  what  you  mean  by  a 
regular  kick-up.  We  shall  naturally  have  a  great 
deal  of  discussion  —  if  she  consents  to  discuss 
the  matter  at  all.  That 's  why  you  must  decid- 
edly give  her  two  or  three  days." 


114  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

"  I  see  you  think  she  may  refuse  to  discuss  it 
at  all,"  said  Owen. 

"  I  'm  only  trying  to  be  prepared  for  the  worst. 
You  must  remember  that  to  have  to  withdraw 
from  the  ground  she  has  taken,  to  make  a  public 
surrender  of  what  she  has  publicly  appropriated, 
will  go  uncommonly  hard  with  her  pride." 

Owen  considered  ;  his  face  seemed  to  broaden, 
but  not  into  a  smile.  "  I  suppose  she 's  tremen- 
dously proud,  is  n't  she  ? "  This  might  have  been 
the  first  time  it  had  occurred  to  him. 

"  You  know  better  than  I,"  said  Fleda,  speak- 
ing with  high  extravagance. 

"  I  don't  know  anything  in  the  world  half  so 
well  as  you.  If  I  were  as  clever  as  you  I  might 
hope  to  get  round  her."  Owen  hesitated ;  then 
he  went  on :  "  In  fact  I  don't  quite  see  what  even 
you  can  say  or  do  that  will  really  fetch  her." 

"  Neither  do  I,  as  yet.  I  must  think  —  I  must 
pray  !  "  the  girl  pursued,  smiling.  "  I  can  only 
say  to  you  that  I  '11  try.  I  want  to  try,  you  know 
—  I  want  to  help  you."  He  stood  looking  at  her 
so  long  on  this  that  she  added  with  much  dis- 
tinctness :  "  So  you  must  leave  me,  please,  quite 
alone  with  her.  You  must  go  straight  back." 

"  Back  to  the  inn  ? " 

"  Oh  no,  back  to  town.     I  '11  write  to  you  to- 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  115 

He  turned  about  vaguely  for  his  hat. 

"There's  the  chance,  of  course,  that  she  may 
be  afraid." 

"  Afraid,  you  mean,  of  the  legal  steps  you  may 
take?" 

"  I  've  got  a  perfect  case  —  I  could  have  her  up. 
The  Brigstocks  say  it's  simple  stealing." 

"  I  can  easily  fancy  what  the  Brigstocks  say !  " 
Fleda  permitted  herself  to  remark  without  solem- 
nity. 

"  It  's  none  of  their  business,  is  it  ? "  was 
Owen's  unexpected  rejoinder.  Fleda  had  already 
noted  that  no  one  so  slow  could  ever  have  had 
such  rapid  transitions. 

She  showed  her  amusement.  "  They  Ve  a 
much  better  right  to  say  it 's  none  of  mine." 

"  Well,  at  any  rate,  you  don't  call  her  names." 

Fleda  wondered  whether  Mona  did ;  and  this 
made  it  all  the  finer  of  her  to  exclaim  in  a 
moment :  "  You  don't  know  what  I  shall  call  her 
if  she  holds  out !  " 

Owen  gave  her  a  gloomy  glance ;  then  he  blew 
a  speck  off  the  crown  of  his  hat.  "  But  if  you  do 
have  a  set-to  with  her  ? " 

He  paused  so  long  for  a  reply  that  Fleda  said  : 
"  I  don't  think  I  know  what  you  mean  by  a  set- 
to." 

"Well,  if  she  calls  you  names." 


Il6  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

"  I  don't  think  she  '11  do  that." 

"What  I  mean  to  say  is,  if  she's  angry  at  your 
backing  me  up  —  what  will  you  do  then  ?  She 
can't  possibly  like  it,  you  know." 

"  She  may  very  well  not  like  it ;  but  everything 
depends.  I  must  see  what  I  shall  do.  You 
mustn't  worry  about  me." 

She  spoke  with  decision,  but  Owen  seemed 
still  unsatisfied.  "You  won't  go  away,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Go  away  ? " 

"  If  she  does  take  it  ill  of  you." 

Fleda  moved  to  the  door  and  opened  it.  "  I  'm 
not  prepared  to  say.  You  must  have  patience 
and  see." 

"Of  course  I  must,"  said  Owen — "of  course, 
of  course."  But  he  took  no  more  advantage  of 
the  open  door  than  to  say :  "  You  want  me  to  be 
off,  and  I  'm  off  in  a  minute.  Only,  before  I  go, 
please  answer  me  a  question.  If  you  should 
leave  my  mother,  where  would  you  go  ?  " 

Fleda  smiled  again.  "  I  have  n't  the  least 
idea." 

"  I  suppose  you  'd  go  back  to  London." 

"I  haven't  the  least  idea,"  Fleda  repeated. 

"  You  don't  —  a  —  live  anywhere  in  particular, 
do  you  ? "  the  young  man  went  on.  He  looked 
conscious  as  soon  as  he  had  spoken ;  she  could 
see  that  he  felt  himself  to  have  alluded  more 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  117 

grossly  than  he  meant  to  the  circumstance  of  her 
having,  if  one  were  plain  about  it,  no  home  -of 
her  own.  He  had  meant  it  as  an  allusion  of  a 
tender  sort  to  all  that  she  would  sacrifice  in  the 
case  of  a  quarrel  with  his  mother  ;  but  there  was 
indeed  no  graceful  way  of  touching  on  that. 
One  just  could  n't  be  plain  about  it. 

Fleda,  wound  up  as  she  was,  shrank  from  any 
treatment  at  all  of  the  matter,  and  she  made  no 
answer  to  his  question.  "  I  won't  leave  your 
mother,"  she  said.  "I'll  produce  an  effect  on 
her  ;  I  '11  convince  her  absolutely." 

"  I  believe  you  will,  if  you  look  at  her  like 
that !  " 

She  was  wound  up  to  such  a  height  that  there 
might  well  be  a  light  in  her  pale,  fine  little  face 
—  a  light  that,  while,  for  all  return,  at  first,  she 
simply  shone  back  at  him,  was  intensely  reflected 
in  his  own.  "  I  '11  make  her  see  it  —  I  '11  make 
her  see  it ! "  She  rang  out  like  a  silver  bell. 
She  had  at  that  moment  a  perfect  faith  that  she 
should  succeed;  but  it  passed  into  something 
else  when,  the  next  instant,  she  became  aware 
that  Owen,  quickly  getting  between  her  and  the 
door  she  had  opened,  was  sharply  closing  it,  as 
might  be  said,  in  her  face.  He  had  done  this 
before  she  could  stop  him,  and  he  stood  there 
with  his  hand  on  the  knob  and  smiled  at  her 


Il8  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON' 

strangely.  Clearer  than  he  could  have  spoken  it 
was  the  sense  of  those  seconds  of  silence. 

"  When  I  got  into  this  I  did  n't  know  you,  and 
now  that  I  know  you  how  can  I  tell  you  the  dif- 
ference ?  And  she 's  so  different,  so  ugly  and 
vulgar,  in  the  light  of  this  squabble.  No,  like 
you  I  Ve  never  known  one.  It 's  another  thing, 
it 's  a  new  thing  altogether.  Listen  to  me  a  lit- 
tle :  can't  something  be  done  ?"  It  was  what 
had  been  in  the  air  in  those  moments  at  Kensing- 
ton, and  it  only  wanted  words  to  be  a  committed 
act.  The  more  reason,  to  the  girl's  excited  mind, 
why  it  should  n't  have  words  ;  her  one  thought 
was  not  to  hear,  to  keep  the  act  uncommitted. 
She  would  do  this  if  she  had  to  be  horrid. 

"  Please  let  me  out,  Mr.  Gereth,"  she  said ;  on 
which  he  opened  the  door  with  an  hesitation  so 
very  brief  that  in  thinking  of  these  things  after- 
wards —  for  she  was  to  think  of  them  forever  — 
she  wondered  in  what  tone  she  could  have  spoken. 
They  went  into  the  hall,  where  she  encountered 
the  parlor-maid,  of  whom  she  inquired  whether 
Mrs.  Gereth  had  come  in. 

"  No,  miss  ;  and  I  think  she  has  left  the  garden. 
She  has  gone  up  the  back  road."  In  other  words, 
they  had  the  whole  place  to  themselves.  It 
would  have  been  a  pleasure,  in  a  different  mood, 
to  converse  with  that  parlor-maid. 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  119 

"  Please  open  the  house-door,"  said  Fleda. 

Owen,  as  if  in  quest  of  his  umbrella,  looked 
vaguely  about  the  hall  —  looked  even  wistfully 
up  the  staircase  —  while  the  neat  young  woman 
complied  with  Fleda's  request.  Owen's  eyes  then 
wandered  out  of  the  open  door.  "  I  think  it 's 
awfully  nice  here,"  he  observed ;  "  I  assure  you  I 
could  do  with  it  myself." 

"  I  should  think  you  might,  with  half  your  things 
here  !  It 's  Poynton  itself  —  almost.  Good-bye, 
Mr.  Gereth,"  Fleda  added.  Her  intention  had 
naturally  been  that  the  neat  young  woman,  open- 
ing the  front  door,  should  remain  to  close  it  on 
the  departing  guest.  That  functionary,  however, 
had  acutely  vanished  behind  a  stiff  flap  of  green 
baize  which  Mrs.  Gereth  had  not  yet  had  time  to 
abolish.  Fleda  put  out  her  hand,  but  Owen 
turned  away  —  he  could  n't  find  his  umbrella. 
She  passed  into  the  open  air  —  she  was  deter- 
mined to  get  him  out ;  and  in  a  moment  he  joined 
her  in  the  little  plastered  portico  which  had  small 
resemblance  to  any  feature  of  Poynton.  It  was, 
as  Mrs.  Gereth  had  said,  like  the  portico  of  a 
house  in  Brompton. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mean  with  all  the  things  here," 
he  explained  in  regard  to  the  opinion  he  had  just 
expressed.  "I  mean  I  could  put  up  with  it  just 
as  it  was  ;  it  had  a  lot  of  good  things,  don't  you 


I2O  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

think  ?  I  mean  if  everything  was  back  at  Poyn- 
ton,  if  everything  was  all  right."  He  brought 
out  these  last  words  with  a  sort  of  smothered 
sigh.  Fleda  did  n't  understand  his  explanation 
unless  it  had  reference  to  another  and  more  won- 
derful exchange  —  the  restoration  to  the  great 
house  not  only  of  its  tables  and  chairs,  but  of  its 
alienated  mistress.  This  would  imply  the  instal- 
lation of  his  own  life  at  Ricks,  and  obviously  that 
of  another  person.  Such  another  person  could 
scarcely  be  Mona  Brigstock.  He  put  out  his  hand 
now ;  and  once  more  she  heard  his  unsounded 
words :  "  With  everything  patched  up  at  the 
other  place,  I  could  live  here  with  you.  Don't 
you  see  what  I  mean  ? " 

Fleda  saw  perfectly,  and,  with  a  face  in  which 
she  flattered  herself  that  nothing  of  this  vision 
appeared,  gave  him  her  hand  and  said :  "  Good- 
bye, good-bye." 

Owen  held  her  hand  very  firmly  and  kept  it 
even  after  an  effort  made  by  her  to  recover  it  — 
an  effort  not  repeated,  as  she  felt  it  best  not  to 
show  she  was  flurried.  That  solution  —  of  her 
living  with  him  at  Ricks  —  disposed  of  him  beau- 
tifully, and  disposed  not  less  so  of  herself  ;  it  dis- 
posed admirably  too  of  Mrs.  Gereth.  Fleda  could 
only  vainly  wonder  how  it  provided  for  poor 
Mona.  While  he  looked  at  her,  grasping  her 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  121 

hand,  she  felt  that  now  indeed  she  was  paying  for 
his  mother's  extravagance  at  Poynton  —  the  vivid- 
ness of  that  lady's  public  plea  that  little  Fleda 
Vetch  was  the  person  to  insure  the  general  peace. 
It  was  to  that  vividness  poor  Owen  had  come 
back,  and  if  Mrs.  Gereth  had  had  more  discretion 
little  Fleda  Vetch  would  n't  have  been  in  a  predic- 
ament. She  saw  that  Owen  had  at  this  moment 
his  sharpest  necessity  of  speech,  and  so  long  as 
he  did  n't  release  her  hand  she  could  only  submit 
to  him.  Her  defense  would  be  perhaps  to  look 
blank  and  hard ;  so  she  looked  as  blank  and  as 
hard  as  she  could,  with  the  reward  of  an  immedi- 
ate sense  that  this  was  not  a  bit  what  he  wanted. 
It  even  made  him  hang  fire,  as  if  he  were  sud- 
denly ashamed  of  himself,  were  recalled  to  some 
idea  of  duty  and  of  honor.  Yet  he  none  the  less 
brought  it  out.  "  There 's  one  thing  I  dare  say  I 
ought  to  tell  you,  if  you  're  going  so  kindly  to  act 
for  me ;  though  of  course  you  '11  see  for  yourself 
it 's  a  thing  it  won't  do  to  tell  her!'  What  was 
it  ?  He  made  her  wait  for  it  again,  and  while  she 
waited,  under  firm  coercion,  she  had  the  extraor- 
dinary impression  that  Owen's  simplicity  was  in 
eclipse.  His  natural  honesty  was  like  the  scent 
of  a  flower,  and  she  felt  at  this  moment  as  if  her 
nose  had  been  brushed  by  the  bloom  without  the 
odor.  The  allusion  was  undoubtedly  to  his  mo- 


122  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

ther ;  and  was  not  what  he  meant  about  the  mat- 
ter in  question  the  opposite  of  what  he  said  — 
that  it  just  would  do  to  tell  her  ?  It  would  have 
been  the  first  time  he  had  said  the  opposite  of 
what  he  meant,  and  there  was  certainly  a  fascina- 
tion in  the  phenomenon,  as  well  as  a  challenge  to 
suspense  in  the  ambiguity.  "  It 's  just  that  I  un- 
derstand from  Mona,  you  know,"  he  stammered  ; 
"it's  just  that  she  has  made  no  bones  about 
bringing  home  to  me  — "  He  tried  to  laugh, 
and  in  the  effort  he  faltered  again. 

"  About  bringing  home  to  you  ?  "  —  Fleda  en- 
couraged him. 

He  was  sensible  of  it,  he  achieved  his  perform- 
ance. "  Why,  that  if  I  don't  get  the  things  back 
—  every  blessed  one  of  them  except  a  few  she  '11 
pick  out  —  she  won't  have  anything  more  to  say 
to  me." 

Fleda,  after  an  instant,  encouraged  him  again. 
"  To  say  to  you  ? " 

"  Why,  she  simply  won't  marry  me,  don't  you 
see?" 

Owen's  legs,  not  to  mention  his  voice,  had 
wavered  while  he  spoke,  and  she  felt  his  posses- 
sion of  her  hand  loosen  so  that  she  was  free 
again.  Her  stare  of  perception  broke  into  a 
lively  laugh.  "  Oh,  you  're  all  right,  for  you  will 
get  them.  You  will ;  you  're  quite  safe  ;  don't 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  123 

worry ! "  She  fell  back  into  the  house  with 
her  hand  on  the  door.  "  Good-bye,  good-bye." 
She  repeated  it  several  times,  laughing  bravely, 
quite  waving  him  away  and,  as  he  didn't  move 
and  save  that  he  was  on  the  other  side  of  it, 
closing  the  door  in  his  face  quite  as  he  had  closed 
that  of  the  drawing-room  in  hers.  Never  had  a 
face,  never  at  least  had  such  a  handsome  one, 
been  so  presented  to  that  offense.  She  even 
held  the  door  a  minute,  lest  he  should  try  to 
come  in  again.  At  last,  as  she  heard  nothing, 
she  made  a  dash  for  the  stairs  and  ran  up. 


IX 

IN  knowing  a  while  before  all  she  needed,  Fleda 
had  been  far  from  knowing  as  much  as  that ;  so 
that  once  upstairs,  where,  in  her  room,  with  her 
sense  of  danger  and  trouble,  the  age  of  Louis 
Seize  suddenly  struck  her  as  wanting  in  taste 
and  point,  she  felt  that  she  now  for  the  first  time 
knew  her  temptation.  Owen  had  put  it  before 
her  with  an  art  beyond  his  own  dream.  Mona 
would  cast  him  off  if  he  didn't  proceed  to  ex- 
tremities ;  if  his  negotiation  with  his  mother 
should  fail  he  would  be  completely  free.  That 
negotiation  depended  on  a  young  lady  to  whom 
he  had  pressingly  suggested  the  condition  of  his 
freedom  ;  and  as  if  to  aggravate  the  young  lady's 
predicament  designing  fate  had  sent  Mrs.  Gereth, 
as  the  parlor-maid  said,  "up  the  back  road." 
This  would  give  the  young  lady  more  time  to 
make  up  her  mind  that  nothing  should  come  of 
the  negotiation.  There  would  be  different  ways 
of  putting  the  question  to  Mrs.  Gereth,  and  Fleda 
might  profitably  devote  the  moments  before  her 
return  to  a  selection  of  the  way  that  would  most 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  12$ 

surely  be  tantamount  to  failure.  This  selection 
indeed  required  no  great  adroitness  ;  it  was  so 
conspicuous  that  failure  would  be  the  reward 
of  an  effective  introduction  of  Mona.  If  that 
abhorred  name  should  be  properly  invoked  Mrs. 
Gereth  would  resist  to  the  death,  and  before 
envenomed  resistance  Owen  would  certainly  re- 
tire. His  retirement  would  be  into  single  life, 
and  Fleda  reflected  that  he  had  now  gone  away 
conscious  of  having  practically  told  her  so.  She 
could  only  say,  as  she  waited  for  the  back  road  to 
disgorge,  that  she  hoped  it  was  a  consciousness 
he  enjoyed.  There  was  something  she  enjoyed  ; 
but  that  was  a  very  different  matter.  To  know 
that  she  had  become  to  him  an  object  of  desire 
gave  her  wings  that  she  felt  herself  flutter  in  the 
air  :  it  was  like  the  rush  of  a  flood  into  her  own 
accumulations.  These  stored  depths  had  been 
fathomless  and  still,  but  now,  for  half  an  hour, 
in  the  empty  house,  they  spread  till  they  over- 
flowed. He  seemed  to  have  made  it  right  for  her 
to  confess  to  herself  her  secret.  Strange  then 
there  should  be  for  him  in  return  nothing  that 
such  a  confession  could  make  right !  How  could 
it  make  right  that  he  should  give  up  Mona  for 
another  woman  ?  His  attitude  was  a  sorry  ap- 
peal to  Fleda  to  legitimate  that.  But  he  did  n't 
believe  it  himself,  and  he  had  none  of  the  cour- 


126  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

age  of  his  suggestion.  She  could  easily  see  how 
wrong  everything  must  be  when  a  man  so  made 
to  be  manly  was  wanting  in  courage.  She  had 
upset  him,  as  people  called  it,  and  he  had  spoken 
out  from  the  force  of  the  jar  of  finding  her  there. 
He  had  upset  her  too,  heaven  knew,  but  she  was 
one  of  those  who  could  pick  themselves  up.  She 
had  the  real  advantage,  she  considered,  of  having 
kept  him  from  seeing  that  she  had  been  over- 
thrown. 

She  had  moreover  at  present  completely  re- 
covered her  feet,  though  there  was  in  the  inten- 
sity of  the  effort  required  to  do  so  a  vibration 
which  throbbed  away  into  an  immense  allowance 
for  the  young  man.  How  could  she  after  all 
know  what,  in  the  disturbance  wrought  by  his 
mother,  Mona's  relations  with  him  might  have 
become?  If  he  had  been  able  to  keep  his  wits, 
such  as  they  were,  more  about  him  he  would 
probably  have  felt  —  as  sharply  as  she  felt  on  his 
behalf  —  that  so  long  as  those  relations  were  not 
ended  he  had  no  right  to  say  even  the  little  he 
had  said.  He  had  no  right  to  appear  to  wish  to 
draw  in  another  girl  to  help  him  to  an  escape. 
If  he  was  in  a  plight  he  must  get  out  of  the 
plight  himself,  he  must  get  out  of  it  first,  and 
anything  he  should  have  to  say  to  any  one  else 
must  be  deferred  and  detached.  She  herself,  at 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  I2/ 

any  rate  —  it  was  her  own  case  that  was  in  ques- 
tion—  couldn't  dream  of  assisting  him  save  in 
the  sense  of  their  common  honor.  She  could 
never  be  the  girl  to  be  drawn  in,  she  could  never 
lift  her  finger  against  Mona.  There  was  something 
in  her  that  would  make  it  a  shame  to  her  forever 
to  have  owed  her  happiness  to  an  interference. 
It  would  seem  intolerably  vulgar  to  her  to  have  v 
"ousted"  the  daughter  of  the  Brigstocks ;  and 
merely  to  have  abstained  even  would  n't  assure 
her  that  she  had  been  straight.  Nothing  was 
really  straight  but  to  justify  her  little  pensioned 
presence  by  her  use;  and  now,  won  over  as  she 
was  to  heroism,  she  could  see  her  use  only  as 
some  high  and  delicate  deed.  She  could  n't  do 
anything  at  all,  in  short,  unless  she  could  do  it 
with  a  kind  of  pride,  and  there  would  be  nothing 
to  be  proud  of  in  having  arranged  for  poor  Owen 
to  get  off  easily.  Nobody  had  a  right  to  get  off 
easily  from  pledges  so  deep,  so  sacred.  How 
could  Fleda  doubt  they  had  been  tremendous 
when  she  knew  so  well  what  any  pledge  of  her 
own  would  be  ?  If  Mona  was  so  formed  that  she 
could  hold  such  vows  light,  that  was  Mona's 
peculiar  business.  To  have  loved  Owen  appar- 
ently, and  yet  to  have  loved  him  only  so  much, 
only  to  the  extent  of  a  few  tables  and  chairs,  was 
not  a  thing  she  could  so  much  as  try  to  grasp. 


128  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

Of  a  different  way  of  loving  him  she  was  herself 
ready  to  give  an  instance,  an  instance  of  which 
the  beauty  indeed  would  not  be  generally  known. 
It  would  not  perhaps  if  revealed  be  generally 
understood,  inasmuch  as  the  effect  of  the  par- 
ticular pressure  she  proposed  to  exercise  would 
be,  should  success  attend  it,  to  keep  him  tied  to 
an  affection  that  had  died  a  sudden  and  violent 
death.  Even  in  the  ardor  of  her  meditation 
Fleda  remained  in  sight  of  the  truth  that  it  would 
be  an  odd  result  of  her  magnanimity  to  prevent 
her  friend's  shaking  off  a  woman  he  disliked. 
If  he  did  n't  dislike  Mona,  what  was  the  matter 
with  him  ?  And  if  he  did,  Fleda  asked,  what 
was  the  matter  with  her  own  silly  self  ? 

Our  young  lady  met  this  branch  of  the  tempta- 
tion it  pleased  her  frankly  to  recognize  by  de- 
claring that  to  encourage  any  such  cruelty  would 
be  tortuous  and  base.  She  had  nothing  to  do  with 
his  dislikes ;  she  had  only  to  do  with  his  good- 
nature and  his  good  name.  She  had  joy  of  him 
just  as  he  was,  but  it  was  of  these  things  she  had 
the  greatest.  The  worst  aversion  and  the  liveliest 
reaction  moreover  would  n't  alter  the  fact  —  since 
one  was  facing  facts  —  that  but  the  other  day 
his  strong  arms  must  have  clasped  a  remarkably 
handsome  girl  as  close  as  she  had  permitted.  Fle- 
da's  emotion  at  this  time  was  a  wondrous  mixture, 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  1 29 

in  which  Mona's  permissions  and  Mona's  beauty 
figured  powerfully  as  aids  to  reflection.  She 
herself  had  no  beauty,  and  her  permissions  were 
the  stony  stares  she  had  just  practiced  in  the 
drawing-room  —  a  consciousness  of  a  kind  appre- 
ciably to  add  to  the  particular  sense  of  triumph 
that  made  her  generous.  I  may  not  perhaps  too 
much  diminish  the  merit  of  that  generosity  if  I 
mention  that  it  could  take  the  flight  we  are  con- 
sidering just  because  really,  with  the  telescope  of 
her  long  thought,  Fleda  saw  what  might  bring 
her  out  of  the  wood.  Mona  herself  would  bring 
her  out ;  at  the  least  Mona  possibly  might. 
Deep  down  plunged  the  idea  that  even  should 
she  achieve  what  she  had  promised  Owen,  there 
was  still  the  contingency  of  Mona's  independent 
action.  She  might  by  that  time,  under  stress  of 
temper  or  of  whatever  it  was  that  was  now 
moving  her,  have  said  or  done  the  things  there  is 
no  patching  up.  If  the  rupture  should  come 
from  Waterbath  they  might  all  be  happy  yet. 
This  was  a  calculation  that  Fleda  would  n't  have 
committed  to  paper,  but  it  affected  the  total  of 
her  sentiments.  She  was  meanwhile  so  remark- 
ably constituted  that  while  she  refused  to  profit 
by  Owen's  mistake,  even  while  she  judged  it  and 
hastened  to  cover  it  up,  she  could  drink  a  sweet- 
ness from  it  that  consorted  little  with  her  wishing 


I3O  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

it  might  n't  have  been  made.  There  was  no  harm 
done,  because  he  had  instinctively  known,  poor 
dear,  with  whom  to  make  it,  and  it  was  a  com- 
pensation for  seeing  him  worried  that  he  had  n't 
made  it  with  some  horrid  mean  girl  who  would 
immediately  have  dished  him  by  making  a  still 
bigger  one.  Their  protected  error  (for  she  in- 
dulged a  fancy  that  it  was  hers  too)  was  like 
some  dangerous,  lovely  living  thing  that  she  had 
caught  and  could  keep  —  keep  vivid  and  helpless 
in  the  cage  of  her  own  passion  and  look  at  and 
talk  to  all  day  long.  She  had  got  it  well  locked 
up  there  by  the  time  that,  from  an  upper  window, 
she  saw  Mrs.  Gereth  again  in  the  garden.  At 
this  she  went  down  to  meet  her. 


X 

FLEDA'S  line  had  been  taken,  her  word  was 
quite  ready ;  on  the  terrace  of  the  painted  pots 
she  broke  out  before  her  interlocutress  could  put 
a  question.  "  His  errand  was  perfectly  simple  : 
he  came  to  demand  that  you  shall  pack  every- 
thing straight  up  again  and  send  it  back  as  fast 
as  the  railway  will  carry  it." 

The  back  road  had  apparently  been  fatiguing 
to  Mrs.  Gereth ;  she  rose  there  rather  white  and 
wan  with  her  walk.  A  certain  sharp  thinness 
was  in  her  ejaculation  of  "  Oh  !  '*  —  after  which 
she  glanced  about  her  for  a  place  to  sit  down. 
The  movement  was  a  criticism  of  the  order  of 
events  that  offered  such  a  piece  of  news  to  a  lady 
coming  in  tired ;  but  Fleda  could  see  that  in 
turning  over  the  possibilities  this  particular  peril 
was  the  one  that  during  the  last  hour  her  friend 
had  turned  up  oftenest.  At  the  end  of  the  short, 
gray  day,  which  had  been  moist  and  mild,  the 
sun  was  out ;  the  terrace  looked  to  the  south, 
and  a  bench,  formed  as  to  legs  and  arms  of  iron 
representing  knotted  boughs,  stood  against  the 


132  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

warmest  wall  of  the  house.  The  mistress  of 
Ricks  sank  upon  it  and  presented  to  her  compan- 
ion the  handsome  face  she  had  composed  to  hear 
everything.  Strangely  enough,  it  was  just  this 
fine  vessel  of  her  attention  that  made  the  girl 
most  nervous  about  what  she  must  drop  in. 
"  Quite  a  '  demand/  dear,  is  it  ? "  asked  Mrs. 
Gereth,  drawing  in  her  cloak. 

"  Oh,  that 's  what  I  should  call  it !  "  Fleda 
laughed,  to  her  own  surprise. 

"  I  mean  with  the  threat  of  enforcement  and 
that  sort  of  thing." 

"  Distinctly  with  the  threat  of  enforcement  — 
what  would  be  called,  I  suppose,  coercion." 

"  What  sort  of  coercion  ? "  said  Mrs.  Gereth. 

"  Why,  legal,  don't  you  know  ?  —  what  he  calls 
setting  the  lawyers  at  you." 

"Is  that  what  he  calls  it?"  She  seemed  to 
speak  with  disinterested  curiosity. 

"  That 's  what  he  calls  it,"  said  Fleda. 

Mrs.  Gereth  considered  an  instant.  "  Oh,  the 
lawyers  ! "  she  exclaimed  lightly.  Seated  there 
almost  cosily  in  the  reddening  winter  sunset, 
only  with  her  shoulders  raised  a  little  and  her 
mantle  tightened  as  if  from  a  slight  chill,  she 
had  never  yet  looked  to  Fleda  so  much  in  posses- 
sion nor  so  far  from  meeting  unsuspectedness 
halfway.  "  Is  he  going  to  send  them  down  here  ? " 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  133 

"  I  dare  say  he  thinks  it  may  come  to  that." 

"The  lawyers  can  scarcely  do  the  packing," 
Mrs.  Gereth  humorously  remarked. 

"  I  suppose  he  means  them  —  in  the  first  place, 
at  least  —  to  try  to  talk  you  over." 

"  In  the  first  place,  eh  ?  And  what  does  he 
mean  in  the  second  ? " 

Fleda  hesitated  ;  she  had  not  foreseen  that  so 
simple  an  inquiry  could  disconcert  her.  "  I  'm 
afraid  I  don't  know." 

"  Did  n't  you  ask  ?  "  Mrs.  Gereth  spoke  as  if 
she  might  have  said,  "  What  then  were  you  do- 
ing all  the  while  ?  " 

"  I  did  n't  ask  very  much,"  said  her  companion. 
"  He  has  been  gone  some  time.  The  great  thing 
seemed  to  be  to  understand  clearly  that  he 
would  n't  be  content  with  anything  less  than 
what  he  mentioned." 

"  My  just  giving  everything  back  ?  " 

"  Your  just  giving  everything  back." 

"  Well,  darling,  what  did  you  tell  him  ?  "  Mrs. 
Gereth  blandly  inquired. 

Fleda  faltered  again,  wincing  at  the  term  of 
endearment,  at  what  the  words  took  for  granted, 
charged  with  the  confidence  she  had  now  com- 
mitted herself  to  betray.  "I  told  him  I  would 
tell  you ! "  She  smiled,  but  she  felt  that  her 
smile  was  rather  hollow  and  even  that  Mrs. 


134  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

Gereth  had  begun  to  look  at  her  with  some 
fixedness. 

"  Did  he  seem  very  angry  ?  " 

"  He  seemed  very  sad.  He  takes  it  very  hard," 
Fleda  added. 

"  And  how  does  she  take  it  ? " 

"  Ah,  that  —  that  I  felt  a  delicacy  about  ask- 
ing." 

"  So  you  did  n't  ask  ?  "  The  words  had  the 
note  of  surprise. 

Fleda  was  embarrassed  ;  she  had  not  made  up 
her  mind  definitely  to  lie.  "  I  did  n't  think  you  'd 
care."  That  small  untruth  she  would  risk. 

"Well  —  I  don't!"  Mrs.  Gereth'  declared  ;  and 
Fleda  felt  less  guilty  to  hear  her,  for  the  state- 
ment was  as  inexact  as  her  own.  "  Did  n't  you 
say  anything  in  return  ? "  Mrs.  Gereth  presently 
continued. 

"  Do  you  mean  in  the  way  of  justifying  you  ? " 

"  I  did  n't  mean  to  trouble  you  to  do  that.  My 
justification,"  said  Mrs.  Gereth,  sitting  there 
warmly  and,  in  the  lucidity  of  her  thought,  which 
nevertheless  hung  back  a  little,  dropping  her  eyes 
on  the  gravel  —  "my  justification  was  all  the 
past.  My  justification  was  the  cruelty  -  But 
at  this,  with  a  short,  sharp  gesture,  she  checked 
herself.  "It's  too  good  of  me  to  talk  —  now." 
She  produced  these  sentences  with  a  cold  pa- 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  135 

tience,  as  if  addressing  Fleda  in  the  girl's  virtual 
and  actual  character  of  Owen's  representative. 
Our  young  lady  crept  to  and  fro  before  the 
bench,  combating  the  sense  that  it  was  occupied 
by  a  judge,  looking  at  her  boot-toes,  reminding 
herself  in  doing  so  of  Mona,  and  lightly  crunching 
the  pebbles  as  she  walked.  She  moved  about 
because  she  was  afraid,  putting  off  from  moment 
to  moment  the  exercise  of  the  courage  she  had 
been  sure  she  possessed.  That  courage  would  all 
come  to  her  if  she  could  only  be  equally  sure  that 
what  she  should  be  called  upon  to  do  for  Owen 
would  be  to  suffer.  She  had  wondered,  while 
Mrs.  Gereth  spoke,  how  that  lady  would  describe 
her  justification.  She  had  described  it  as  if  to  "be 
irreproachably  fair,  give  her  adversary  the  benefit 
of  every  doubt,  and  then  dismiss  the  question 
forever.  "  Of  course,"  Mrs.  Gereth  went  on,  "  if 
we  did  n't  succeed  in  showing  him  at  Poynton  the 
ground  we  took,  it's  simply  that  he  shuts  his 
eyes.  What  I  supposed  was  that  you  would  have 
given  him  your  opinion  that  if  I  was  the  woman 
so  signally  to  assert  myself,  I  'm  also  the  woman 
to  rest  upon  it  imperturbably  enough." 

Fleda  stopped  in  front  of  her  hostess.  "  I  gave 
him  my  opinion  that  you  're  very  logical,  very 
obstinate,  and  very  proud." 

"  Quite  right,  my  dear  :    I  'm  a  rank  bigot  — 


136  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

about  that  sort  of  thing ! "  and  Mrs.  Gereth 
jerked  her  head  at  the  contents  of  the  house. 
"  I  Ve  never  denied  it.  I  'd  kidnap  —  to  save 
them,  to  convert  them  —  the  children  of  heretics. 
When  I  know  I  'm  right  I  go  to  the  stake.  Oh, 
he  may  burn  me  alive !  "  she  cried  with  a  happy 
face.  "  Did  he  abuse  me  ? "  she  then  demanded. 

Fleda  had  remained  there,  gathering  in  her 
purpose.  "  How  little  you  know  him  !  " 

Mrs.  Gereth  stared,  then  broke  into  a  laugh 
that  her  companion  had  not  expected.  "  Ah,  my 
dear,  certainly  not  so  well  as  you  ! "  The  girl,  at 
this,  turned  away  again  —  she  felt  she  looked  too 
conscious;  and  she  was  aware  that,  during  a 
pause,  Mrs.  Gereth's  eyes  watched  her  as  she 
went.  She  faced  about  afresh  to  meet  them,  but 
what  she  met  was  a  question  that  reinforced 
them.  "  Why  had  you  a  '  delicacy '  as  to  speaking 
of  Mona?" 

She  stopped  again  before  the  bench,  and  an 
inspiration  came  to  her.  "  I  should  think  you 
would  know,"  she  said  with  proper  dignity. 

Blankness  was  for  a  moment  on  Mrs.  Gereth's 
brow ;  then  light  broke  —  she  visibly  remembered 
the  scene  in  the  breakfast-room  after  Mona's 
night  at  Poynton.  "  Because  I  contrasted  you  — 
told  him  you  were  the  one  ?  "  Her  eyes  looked 
deep.  "  You  were  —  you  are  still !  " 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  137 

Fleda  gave  a  bold  dramatic  laugh.  "  Thank  you, 
my  love  —  with  all  the  best  things  at  Ricks  ! " 

Mrs.  Gereth  considered,  trying  to  penetrate,  as 
it  seemed ;  but  at  last  she  brought  out  roundly : 
"  For  you,  you  know,  I  'd  send  them  back ! " 

The  girl's  heart  gave  a  tremendous  bound ;  the 
right  way  dawned  upon  her  in  a  flash.  Obscurity 
indeed  the  next  moment  engulfed  this  course, 
but  for  a  few  thrilled  seconds  she  had  understood. 
To  send  the  things  back  "for  her"  meant  of 
course  to  send  them  back  if  there  were  even  a 
dim  chance  that  she  might  become  mistress  of 
them.  Fleda's  palpitation  was  not  allayed  as  she 
asked  herself  what  portent  Mrs.  Gereth  had  sud- 
denly perceived  of  such  a  chance :  that  perception 
could  come  only  from  a  sudden  suspicion  of  her 
secret.  This  suspicion,  in  turn,  was  a  tolerably 
straight  consequence  of  that  implied  view  of  the 
propriety  of  surrender  from  which,  she  was  well 
aware,  she  could  say  nothing  to  dissociate  herself. 
What  she  first  felt  was  that  if  she  wished  to 
rescue  the  spoils  she  wished  also  to  rescue  her 
secret.  So  she  looked  as  innocent  as  she  could 
and  said  as  quickly  as  possible  :  "  For  me  ?  Why 
in  the  world  for  me  ? " 

" Because  you're  so  awfully  keen." 

"  Am  I  ?  Do  I  strike  you  so  ?  You  know  I 
hate  him,"  Fleda  went  on. 


138  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

She  had  the  sense  for  a  while  of  Mrs.  Gereth's 
regarding  her  with  the  detachment  of  some  stern, 
clever  stranger.  "  Then  what 's  the  matter  with 
you  ?  Why  do  you  want  me  to  give  in  ? " 

Fleda  hesitated ;  she  felt  herself  reddening. 
"I've  only  said  your  son  wants  it.  I  haven't 
said  /do." 

"  Then  say  it  and  have  done  with  it ! " 

This  was  more  peremptory  than  any  word  her 
friend,  though  often  speaking  in  her  presence 
with  much  point,  had  ever  yet  directly  addressed 
to  her.  It  affected  her  like  the  crack  of  a  whip, 
but  she  confined  herself,  with  an  effort,  to  taking 
it  as  a  reminder  that  she  must  keep  her  head. 
"I  know  he  has  his  engagement  to  carry  out." 

"His  engagement  to  marry?  Why,  it's  just 
that  engagement  we  loathe  !  " 

"  Why  should  /loathe  it  ? "  Fleda  asked  with  a 
strained  smile.  Then,  before  Mrs.  Gereth  could 
reply,  she  pursued  :  "  I  'm  thinking  of  his  general 
undertaking  —  to  give  her  the  house  as  she 
originally  saw  it." 

"  To  give  her  the  house  !  "  Mrs.  Gereth 
brought  up  the  words  from  the  depth  of  the 
unspeakable.  The  effort  was  like  the  moan  of  an 
autumn  wind ;  it  was  in  the  power  of  such  an 
image  to  make  her  turn  pale. 

"  I  'm    thinking,"    Fleda    continued,    "  of   the 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  139 

simple  question  of  his  keeping  faith  on  an  impor- 
tant clause  of  his  contract :  it  does  n't  matter 
whether  it 's  with  a  stupid  girl  or  with  a  monster 
of  cleverness.  I  'm  thinking  of  his  honor  and  his 
good  name." 

"The  honor  and  good  name  of  a  man  you 
hate  ? " 

"  Certainly,"  the  girl  resolutely  answered.  "  I 
don't  see  why  you  should  talk  as  if  one  had  a 
petty  mind.  You  don't  think  so.  It 's  not  on 
that  assumption  you've  ever  dealt  with  me.  I 
can  do  your  son  justice,  as  he  put  his  case  to  me." 

"  Ah,  then  he  did  put  his  case  to  you ! "  Mrs. 
Gereth  exclaimed,  with  an  accent  of  triumph. 
"You  seemed  to  speak  just  now  as  if  really 
nothing  of  any  consequence  had  passed  between 
you." 

"  Something  always  passes  when  one  has  a 
little  imagination,"  our  young  lady  declared. 

"I  take  it  you  don't  mean  that  Owen  has 
any  ! "  Mrs.  Gereth  cried  with  her  large  laugh. 

Fleda  was  silent  a  moment.  "  No,  I  don't  mean 
that  Owen  has  any,"  she  returned  at  last. 

"Why  is  it  you  hate  him  so?"  her  hostess 
abruptly  inquired. 

"Should  I  love  him  for  all  he  has  made  you 
suffer  ?  " 

Mrs.  Gereth   slowly  rose  at  this  and,  coming 


I4O  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

across  the  walk,  took  her  young  friend  in  her 
arms  and  kissed  her.  She  then  passed  into  one 
of  Fleda's  an  arm  perversely  and  imperiously 
sociable.  "  Let  us  move  a  little,"  she  said,  hold- 
ing her  close  and  giving  a  slight  shiver.  They 
strolled  along  the  terrace,  and  she  brought  out 
another  question.  "  He  was  eloquent,  then,  poor 
dear  —  he  poured  forth  the  story  of  his  wrongs  ? " 

Fleda  smiled  down  at  her  companion,  who, 
cloaked  and  perceptibly  bowed,  leaned  on  her 
heavily  and  gave  her  an  odd,  unwonted  sense  of 
age  and  cunning.  She  took  refuge  in  an  evasion. 
"  He  could  n't  tell  me  anything  that  I  did  n't 
know  pretty  well  already." 

"  It 's  very  true  that  you  know  everything. 
No,  dear,  you  have  n't  a  petty  mind ;  you  've  a 
lovely  imagination  and  you  're  the  nicest  creature 
in  the  world.  If  you  were  inane,  like  most  girls 
—  like  every  one,  in  fact  —  I  would  have  insulted 
you,  I  would  have  outraged  you,  and  then  you 
would  have  fled  from  me  in  terror.  No,  now 
that  I  think  of  it,"  Mrs.  Gereth  went  on,  "you 
would  n't  have  fled  from  me ;  nothing,  on  the 
contrary,  would  have  made  you  budge.  You 
would  have  cuddled  into  your  warm  corner,  but 
you  would  have  been  wounded  and  weeping  and 
martyrized,  and  you  would  have  taken  every  op- 
portunity to  tell  people  I  'm  a  brute  —  as  indeed 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  141 

I  should  have  been ! "  They  went  to  and  fro, 
and  she  would  not  allow  Fleda,  who  laughed  and 
protested,  to  attenuate  with  any  light  civility  this 
spirited  picture.  She  praised  her  cleverness  and 
her  patience ;  then  she  said  it  was  getting  cold 
and  dark  and  they  must  go  in  to  tea.  She  de- 
layed quitting  the  place,  however,  and  reverted 
instead  to  Owen's  ultimatum,  about  which  she 
asked  another  question  or  two ;  in  particular 
whether  it  had  struck  Fleda  that  he  really  be- 
lieved she  would  comply  with  such  a  summons. 

"  I  think  he  really  believes  that  if  I  try  hard 
enough  I  can  make  you  :  "  after  uttering  which 
words  our  young  lady  stopped  short  and  emulated 
the  embrace  she  had  received  a  few  moments 
before. 

"  And  you  've  promised  to  try  :  I  see.  You 
didn't  tell  me  that,  either,"  Mrs.  Gereth  added 
as  they  went  on.  "But  you're  rascal  enough 
for  anything  !  "  While  Fleda  was  occupied  in 
thinking  in  what  terms  she  could  explain  why 
she  had  indeed  been  rascal  enough  for  the  reti- 
cence thus  denounced,  her  companion  broke  out 
with  an  inquiry  somewhat  irrelevant  and  even  in 
form  somewhat  profane.  "  Why  the  devil,  at 
any  rate,  does  n't  it  come  off  ?" 

Fleda  hesitated.    "  You  mean  their  marriage  ? " 

"  Of  course  I  mean  their  marriage  !  " 


142  THE  SPOILS   OF  POYNTON 

Fleda  hesitated  again.  "  I  have  n't  the  least 
idea/' 

"You  did  n't  ask  him  ?" 

"  Oh,  how  in  the  world  can  you  fancy  ? "  She 
spoke  in  a  shocked  tone. 

"  Fancy  your  putting  a  question  so  indelicate  ? 
/  should  have  put  it  —  I  mean  in  your  place  ; 
but  I  'm  quite  coarse,  thank  God  !  "  Fleda  felt 
privately  that  she  herself  was  coarse,  or  at  any 
rate  would  presently  have  to  be  ;  and  Mrs.  Ge- 
reth,  with  a  purpose  that  struck  the  girl  as  in- 
creasing, continued  :  "  What,  then,  w as  the  day 
to  be  ?  Was  n't  it  just  one  of  these  ? " 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  remember." 

It  was  part  of  the  great  rupture  and  an  effect 
of  Mrs.  Gereth's  character  that  up  to  this  mo- 
ment she* had  been  completely  and  haughtily  in- 
different to  that  detail.  Now,  however,  she  had 
a  visible  reason  for  being  clear  about  it.  She 
bethought  herself  and  she  broke  out  —  "  Is  n't 
the  day  past  ? "  Then,  stopping  short,  she  added  : 
"  Upon  my  word,  they  must  have  put  it  off !  " 
As  Fleda  made  no  answer  to  this  she  sharply 
went  on  :  "  Have  they  put  it  off  ? " 

"  I  have  n't  the  least  idea,"  said  the  girl. 

Her  hostess  was  looking  at  her  hard  again. 
"Didn't  he  tell  you  — didn't  he  say  anything 
about  it  ?  " 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  143 

Fleda,  meanwhile,  had  had  time  to  make  her 
reflections,  which  were  moreover  the  continued 
throb  of  those  that  had  occupied  the  interval  be- 
tween Owen's  departure  and  his  mother's  return. 
If  she  should  now  repeat  his  words,  this  would  n't 
at  all  play  the  game  of  her  definite  vow ;  it  would 
only  play  the  game  of  her  little  gagged  and 
blinded  desire.  She  could  calculate  well  enough 
the  effect  of  telling  Mrs.  Gereth  how  she  had 
had  it  from  Owen's  troubled  lips  that  Mona  was 
only  waiting  for  the  restitution  and  would  do 
nothing  without  it.  The  thing  was  to  obtain  the 
restitution  without  imparting  that  knowledge. 
The  only  way,  also,  not  to  impart  it  was  not 
to  tell  any  truth  at  all  about  it ;  and  the  only 
way  to  meet  this  last  condition  was  to  reply  to 
her  companion,  as  she  presently  did :  "  He  told 
me  nothing  whatever  :  he  did  n't  touch  on  the 
subject." 

"  Not  in  any  way  ? " 

"  Not  in  any  way." 

Mrs.  Gereth  watched  Fleda  and  considered. 
"You  haven't  any  idea  if  they  are  waiting  for 
the  things  ? " 

"  How  should  I  have  ?  I  'm  not  in  their  coun- 
sels." 

"I  dare  say  they  are  —  or  that  Mona  is."  Mrs. 
Gereth  reflected  again ;  she  had  a  bright  idea. 


144  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

"  If  I  don't  give  in,  I  '11  be  hanged  if  she  '11  not 
break  off." 

"  She  '11  never,  never  break  off  !  "  said  Fleda. 

"Are  you  sure?" 

"  I  can't  be  sure,  but  it 's  my  belief." 

"  Derived  from  him  ?  "     • 

The  girl  hung  fire  a  few  seconds.  "  Derived 
from  him." 

Mrs.  Gereth  gave  her  a  long  last  look,  then 
turned  abruptly  away.  "  It 's  an  awful  bore  you 
did  n't  really  get  it  out  of  him  !  Well,  come  to 
tea,"  she  added  rather  dryly,  passing  straight 
into  the  house. 


XI 

THE  sense  of  her  adversary's  dryness,  which 
was  ominous  of  something  she  couldn't  read, 
made  Fleda,  before  complying,  linger  a  little  on 
the  terrace ;  she  felt  the  need  moreover  of  taking 
breath  after  such  a  flight  into  the  cold  air  of 
denial.  When  at  last  she  rejoined  Mrs.  Gereth 
she  found  her  erect  before  the  drawing-room  fire. 
Their  tea  had  been  set  out  in  the  same  quarter, 
and  the  mistress  of  the  house,  for  whom  the  prep- 
aration of  it  was  in  general  a  high  and  undele- 
gated  function,  was  in  an  attitude  to  which  the 
hissing  urn  made  no  appeal.  This  omission,  for 
Fleda,  was  such  a  further  sign  of  something  to 
come  that,  to  disguise  her  apprehension,  she  im- 
mediately and  without  an  apology  took  the  duty 
in  hand ;  only,  however,  to  be  promptly  reminded 
that  she  was  performing  it  confusedly  and  not 
counting  the  journeys  of  the  little  silver  shovel 
she  emptied  into  the  pot.  "Not five,  my  dear  — 
the  usual  three,"  said  her  hostess,  with  the  same 
dryness  ;  watching  her  then  in  silence  while  she 
clumsily  corrected  her  mistake.  The  tea  took 


146  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

some  minutes  to  draw,  and  Mrs.  Gereth  availed 
herself  of  them  suddenly  to  exclaim :  "  You 
haven't  yet  told  me,  you  know,  how  it  is  you 
propose  to  '  make  '  me  !  " 

"Give  everything  back?"  Fleda  looked  into 
the  pot  again  and  uttered  her  question  with  a 
briskness  that  she  felt  to  be  a  little  overdone. 
"  Why,  by  putting  the  question  well  before  you  ; 
by  being  so  eloquent  that  I  shall  persuade  you, 
shall  act  upon  you ;  by  making  you  sorry  for 
having  gone  so  far,"  she  said  boldly;  "by  simply 
and  earnestly  asking  it  of  you,  in  short ;  and  by 
reminding  you  at  the  same  time  that  it 's  the  first 
thing  I  ever  have  so  asked.  Oh,  you've  done 
things  for  me  —  endless  and  beautiful  things," 
she  exclaimed ;  "  but  you  Ve  done  them  all  from 
your  own  generous  impulse.  I  've  never  so  much 
as  hinted  to  you  to  lend  me  a  postage-stamp." 

"  Give  me  a  cup  of  tea,"  said  Mrs.  Gereth.  A 
moment  later,  taking  the  cup,  she  replied  :  "  No, 
you  've  never  asked  me  for  a  postage-stamp." 

"  That  gives  me  a  pull !  "  Fleda  returned,  smil- 
ing. 

"  Puts  you  in  the  situation  of  expecting  that  I 
shall  do  this  thing  just  simply  to  oblige  you  ? " 

The  girl  hesitated.  "  You  said  a  while  ago 
that  for  me  you  would  do  it." 

"  For  you,  but   not   for  your  eloquence.     Do 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  147 

you  understand  what  I  mean  by  the  difference  ? " 
Mrs.  Gereth  asked  as  she  stood  stirring  her  tea. 

Fleda,  to  postpone  answering,  looked  round, 
while  she  drank  it,  at  the  beautiful  room.  "I 
don't  in  the  least  like,  you  know,  your  having 
taken  so  much.  It  was  a  great  shock  to  me,  on 
my  arrival  here,  to  find  you  had  done  so." 

"  Give  me  some  more  tea,"  said  Mrs.  Gereth ; 
and  there  was  a  moment's  silence  as  Fleda  poured 
out  another  cup.  "  If  you  were  shocked,  my  dear, 
I  'm  bound  to  say  you  concealed  your  shock." 

"  I  know  I  did.     I  was  afraid  to  show  it." 

Mrs.  Gereth  drank  off  her  second  cup.  "  And 
you  're  not  afraid  now  ?  " 

"  No,  I  'm  not  afraid  now." 

"  What  has  made  the  difference  ? " 

"  I  've  pulled  myself  together."  Fleda  paused  ; 
then  she  added  :  "  And  I  Ve  seen  Mr.  Owen." 

"  You  've  seen  Mr.  Owen  "  —  Mrs.  Gereth  con- 
curred. She  put  down  her  cup  and  sank  into  a 
chair,  in  which  she  leaned  back,  resting  her  head 
and  gazing  at  her  young  friend.  "  Yes,  I  did  tell 
you  a  while  ago  that  for  you  I  'd  do  it.  But  you 
have  n't  told  me  yet  what  you  '11  do  in  return." 

Fleda  thought  an  instant.  "  Anything  in  the 
wide  world  you  may  require." 

"  Oh,  '  anything  '  is  nothing  at  all !  That 's 
too  easily  said."  Mrs.  Gereth,  reclining  more 


148  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

completely,  closed  her  eyes  with  an  air  of  disgust, 
an  air  indeed  of  inviting  slumber. 

Fleda  looked  at  her  quiet  face,  which  the  ap- 
pearance of  slumber  always  made  particularly 
handsome  ;  she  noted  how  much  the  ordeal  of 
the  last  few  weeks  had_added  to  its  indications 
of  age.  "Well  then,  try  me  with  something. 
What  is  it  you  demand  ?  " 

At  this,  opening  her  eyes,  Mrs.  Gereth  sprang 
straight  up.  "  Get  him  away  from  her  !  " 

Fleda  marveled  :  her  companion  had  in  an  in- 
stant become  young  again.  "  Away  from  Mona  ? 
How  in  the  world  —  ? " 

"  By  not  looking  like  a  fool ! "  cried  Mrs.  Ge- 
reth very  sharply.  She  kissed  her,  however,  on 
the  spot,  to  make  up  for  this  roughness,  and  sum- 
marily took  off  her  hat,  which,  on  coming  into 
the  house,  our  young  lady  had  not  removed.  She 
applied  a  friendly  touch  to  the  girl's  hair  and 
gave  a  businesslike  pull  to  her  jacket.  "I  say 
don't  look  like  an  idiot,  because  you  happen  not 
to  be  one,  not  the  least  bit.  /'m  idiotic;  I've 
been  so,  I  've  just  discovered,  ever  since  our  first 
days  together.  I  've  been  a  precious  donkey  ; 
but  that 's  another  affair." 

Fleda,  as  if  she  humbly  assented,  went  through 
no  form  of  controverting  this ;  she  simply  stood 
passive  to  her  companion's  sudden  refreshment 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  149 

of  her  appearance.  "How  can  I  get  him  away 
from  her  ?  "  she  presently  demanded. 

"  By  letting  yourself  go." 

"  By  letting  myself  go  ? "  She  spoke  mechani- 
cally, still  more  like  an  idiot,  and  felt  as  if  her 
face  flamed  out  the  insincerity  of  her  question. 
It  was  vividly  back  again,  the  vision  of  the  real 
way  to  act  upon  Mrs.  Gereth.  This  lady's  move- 
ments were  now  rapid  ;  she  turned  off  from  her 
as  quickly  as  she  had  seized  her,  and  Fleda  sat 
down  to  steady  herself  for  full  responsibility. 

Her  hostess,  without  taking  up  her  ejaculation, 
gave  a  violent  poke  at  the  fire  and  then  faced  her 
again.  "  You  've  done  two  things,  then,  to-day  — 
have  n't  you  ?  —  that  you  Ve  never  done  before. 
One  has  been  asking  me  the  service,  or  favor,  or 
concession  —  whatever  you  call  it  —  that  you 
just  mentioned  ;  the  other  has  been  telling  me  — 
certainly  too  for  the  first  time  —  an  immense 
little  fib." 

"  An  immense  little  fib  ?  "  Fleda  felt  weak  ; 
she  was  glad  of  the  support  of  her  seat. 

"  An  immense  big  one,  then !  "  said  Mrs. 
Gereth  irritatedly.  "You  don't  in  the  least 
'hate'  Owen,  my  darling.  You  care  for  him 
very  much.  In  fact,  my  own,  you  're  in  love  with 
him  —  there  !  Don't  tell  me  any  more  lies  !  " 
cried  Mrs.  Gereth  with  a  voice  and  a  face  in  the 


150  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

presence  of  which  Fleda  recognized  that  there 
was  nothing  for  her  but  to  hold  herself  and  take 
them.  When  once  the  truth  was  out,  it  was  out, 
and  she  could  see  more  and  more  every  instant 
that  it  would  be  the  only  way.  She  accepted 
therefore  what  had  to  come  ;  she  leaned  back 
her  head  and  closed  her  eyes  as  her  companion 
had  done  just  before.  She  would  have  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands  but  for  the  still  greater 
shame.  "  Oh,  you  're  a  wonder,  a  wonder,"  said 
Mrs.  Gereth  ;  "  you  're  magnificent,  and  I  was 
right,  as  soon  as  I  saw  you,  to  pick  you  out  and 
trust  you  ! "  Fleda  closed  her  eyes  tighter  at 
this  last  word,  but  her  friend  kept  it  up.  "  I 
never  dreamed  of  it  till  a  while  ago,  when,  after 
he  had  come  and  gone,  we  were  face  to  face. 
Then  something  stuck  out  of  you;  it  strongly 
impressed  me,  and  I  did  n't  know  at  first  quite 
what  to  make  of  it.  It  was  that  you  had  just 
been  with  him  and  that  you  were  not  natural. 
Not  natural  to  me"  she  added  with  a  smile.  " I 
pricked  up  my  ears,  and  all  that  this  might  mean 
dawned  upon  me  when  you  said  you  had  asked 
nothing  about  Mona.  It  put  me  on  the  scent, 
but  I  did  n't  show  you,  did  I  ?  I  felt  it  was  in 
you,  deep  down,  and  that  I  must  draw  it  out. 
Well,  I  have  drawn  it,  and  it 's  a  blessing.  Yes- 
terday, when  you  shed  tears  at  breakfast,  I  was 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  151 

awfully  puzzled.  What  has  been  the  matter  with 
you  all  the  while  ?  Why,  Fleda,  it  is  n't  a  crime, 
don't  you  know  that  ? "  cried  the  delighted  wo- 
man. "  When  I  was  a  girl  I  was  always  in  love, 
and  not  always  with  such  nice  people  as  Owen. 
I  did  n't  behave  as  well  as  you  ;  compared  with 
you  I  think  I  must  have  been  horrid.  But  if 
you  're  proud  and  reserved,  it 's  your  own  affair  ; 
I  'm  proud  too,  though  I  'm  not  reserved  —  that 's  - 
what  spoils  it.  I  'm  stupid,  above  all  —  that 's 
what  I  am ;  so  dense  that  I  really  blush  for  it. 
However,  no  one  but  you  could  have  deceived 
me.  If  I  trusted  you,  moreover,  it  was  exactly 
to  be  cleverer  than  myself.  You  must  be  so  now 
more  than  ever ! "  Suddenly  Fleda  felt  her 
hands  grasped :  Mrs.  Gereth  had  plumped  down 
at  her  feet  and  was  leaning  on  her  knees.  "  Save 
him  —  save  him  :  you  can  !  "  she  passionately 
pleaded.  '*  How  could  you  not  like  him,  when 
he 's  such  a  dear  ?  He  is  a  dear,  darling ;  there 's 
no  harm  in  my  own  boy  !  You  can  do  what  you 
will  with  him  —  you  know  you  can  !  What  else 
does  he  give  us  all  this  time  for  ?  Get  him  away 
from  her;  it's  as  if  he  besought  you  to,  poor 
wretch  !  Don't  abandon  him  to  such  a  fate,  and 
I  '11  never  abandon  you.  Think  of  him  with  that 
creature,  that  future  !  If  you  '11  take  him  I  '11 
give  up  everything.  There,  it 's  a  solemn  prom- 


152  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

ise,  the  most  sacred  of  my  life !  Get  the  better 
of  her,  and  he  shall  have  every  stick  I  removed. 
Give  me  your  word,  and  I  '11  accept  it.  I  '11  write 
for  the  packers  to-night !  " 

Fleda,  before  this,  had  fallen  forward  on  her 
companion's  neck,  and  the  two  women,  clinging 
together,  had  got  up  while  the  younger  wailed  on 
the  other's  bosom.  "  You  smooth  it  down  be- 
cause you  see  more  in  it  than  there  can  ever  be  ; 
but  after  my  hideous  double  game  how  will  you 
be  able  to  believe  in  me  again  ?  " 

"  I  see  in  it  simply  what  must  be,  if  you  Ve  a 
single  spark  of  pity.  Where  on  earth  was  the 
double  game,  when  you  Ve  behaved  like  such  a 
saint  ?  You  Ve  been  beautiful,  you  Ve  been  ex- 
quisite, and  all  our  trouble  is  over." 

Fleda,  drying  her  eyes,  shook  her  head  ever  so 
sadly.  "  No,  Mrs.  Gereth,  it  is  n't  over.  I  can't 
do  what  you  ask  —  I  can't  meet  your  condition." 

Mrs.  Gereth  stared ;  the  cloud  gathered  in  her 
face  again.  "Why,  in  the  name  of  goodness, 
when  you  adore  him  ?  I  know  what  you  see  in 
him,"  she  declared  in  another  tone.  "You're 
right !  " 

Fleda  gave  a  faint,  stubborn  smile.  "He  cares 
for  her  too  much." 

"Then  why  doesn't  he  marry  her?  He's 
giving  you  an  extraordinary  chance." 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  153 

"  He  does  n't  dream  I  've  ever  thought  of  him," 
said  Fleda.  "  Why  should  he,  if  you  did  n't  ?  " 

"  It  wasn't  with  me  you  were  in  love,  my  duck." 
Then  Mrs.  Gereth  added  :  "  I  '11  go  and  tell  him." 

"  If  you  do  any  such  thing,  you  shall  never  see 
me  again,  —  absolutely,  literally  never  !  " 

Mrs.  Gereth  looked  hard  at  her  young  friend, 
showing  she  saw  she  must  believe  her.  "  Then 
you  're  perverse,  you  're  wicked.  Will  you  swear 
he  does  n't  know  ? " 

"  Of  course  he  does  n't  know ! "  cried  Fleda 
indignantly. 

Her  interlocutress  was  silent  a  little.  "And 
that  he  has  no  feeling  on  his  side  ?  " 

"  For  me  ?  "  Fleda  stared.  "  Before  he  has 
even  married  her  ? " 

Mrs.  Gereth  gave  a  sharp  laugh  at  this.  "  He 
ought  at  least  to  appreciate  your  wit.  Oh,  my 
dear,  you  are  a  treasure  !  Does  n't  he  appreciate 
anything?  Has  he  given  you  absolutely  no 
symptom  —  not  looked  a  look,  not  breathed  a 
sigh?" 

"The  case,"  said  Fleda  coldly,  "is  as  I  've  had 
the  honor  to  state  it." 

"Then  he's  as  big  a  donkey  as  his  mother! 
But  you  know  you  must  account  for  their  delay," 
Mrs.  Gereth  remarked. 

"  Why  must  I  ?  "  Fleda  asked  after  a  moment. 


154  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

"  Because  you  were  closeted  with  him  here  so 
long.  You  can't  pretend  at  present,  you  know, 
not  to  have  any  art." 

The  girl  hesitated  an  instant;  she  was  con- 
scious that  she  must  choose  between  two  risks. 
She  had  had  a  secret  and  the  secret  was  gone. 
Owen  had  one,  which  was  still  unbruised,  and  the 
greater  risk  now  was  that  his  mother  should  lay 
her  formidable  hand  upon  it.  All  Fleda's  tender- 
ness for  him  moved  her  to  protect  it ;  so  she  faced 
the  smaller  peril.  "Their  delay,"  she  brought 
herself  to  reply,  "may  perhaps  be  Mona's  doing. 
I  mean  because  he  has  lost  her  the  things." 

Mrs.  Gereth  jumped  at  this.  "  So  that  she  '11 
break  altogether  if  I  keep  them  ? " 

Fleda  winced.  "  I  've  told  you  what  I  believe 
about  that.  She  '11  make  scenes  and  conditions ; 
she  '11  worry  him.  But  she  '11  hold  him  fast  ; 
she'll  never  give  him  up." 

Mrs.  Gereth  turned  it  over.  "  Well,  I  '11  keep 
them,  to  try  her,"  she  finally  pronounced ;  at 
which  Fleda  felt  quite  sick,  as  if  she  had  given 
everything  and  got  nothing. 


XII 

"  I  MUST  in  common  decency  let  him  know  that 
I  've  talked  of  the  matter  with  you,"  she  said  to 
her  hostess  that  evening.  "  What  answer  do  you 
wish  me  to  write  to  him  ? " 

"  Write  to  him  that  you  must  see  him  again," 
said  Mrs.  Gereth. 

Fleda  looked  very,  blank.  "  What  on  earth  am 
I  to  see  him  for  ?  " 

"  For  anything  you  like." 

The  girl  would  have  been  struck  with  the 
levity  of  this  had  she  not  already,  in  an  hour,  felt 
the  extent  of  the  change  suddenly  wrought  in 
her  commerce  with  her  friend  —  wrought  above 
all,  to  that  friend's  view,  in  her  relation  to  the 
great  issue.  The  effect  of  what  had  followed 
Owen's  visit  was  to  make  that  relation  the  very 
key  of  the  crisis.  Pressed  upon  her,  goodness 
knew,  the  crisis  had  been,  but  it  now  seemed 
to  put  forth  big,  encircling  arms  —  arms  that 
squeezed  till  they  hurt  and  she  must  cry  out.  It 
was  as  if  everything  at  Ricks  had  been  poured 
into  a  common  receptacle,  a  public  ferment  of 


156  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

emotion  and  zeal,  out  of  which  it  was  ladled  up 
to  be  tasted  and  talked  about ;  everything  at 
least  but  the  one  little  treasure  of  knowledge 
that  she  kept  back.  She  ought  to  have  liked 
this,  she  reflected,  because  it  meant  sympathy, 
meant  a  closer  union  with  the  source  of  so  much 
in  her  life  that  had  been  beautiful  and  renovat- 
ing ;  but  there  were  fine  instincts  in  her  that 
stood  off.  She  had  had  —  and  it  was  not  merely 
at  this  time  —  to  recognize  that  there  were  things 
for  which  Mrs.  Gereth's^zV  was  not  so  happy  as 
for  bargains  and  "marks."  It  wouldn't  be  happy 
now  as  to  the  best  action  on  the  knowledge  she 
had  just  gained ;  yet  as  from  this  moment  they 
were  still  more  intimately  together,  so  a  person 
deeply  in  her  debt  would  simply  have  to  stand 
and  meet  what  was  to  come.  There  were  ways 
in  which  she  could  sharply  incommode  such  a 
person,  and  not  only  with  the  best  conscience  in 
the  world,  but  with  a  sort  of  brutality  of  good 
intentions.  One  of  the  straightest  of  these 
strokes,  Fleda  saw,  would  be  the  dance  of  delight 
over  the  mystery  Mrs.  Gereth  had  laid  bare  — 
the  loud,  lawful,  tactless  joy  of  the  explorer  leap- 
ing upon  the  strand.  Like  any  other  lucky 
discoverer,  she  would  take  possession  of  the  for- 
tunate island.  She  was  nothing  if  not  practical : 
almost  the  only  thing  she  took  account  of  in  her 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  157 

young  friend's  soft  secret  was  the  excellent  use 
she  could  make  of  it — a  use  so  much  to  her  taste 
that  she  refused  to  feel  a  hindrance  in  the  quality 
of  the  material.  Fleda  put  into  Mrs.  Gereth's 
answer  to  her  question  a  good  deal  more  meaning 
than  it  would  have  occurred  to  her  a  few  hours 
before  that  she  was  prepared  to  put,  but  she  had 
on  the  spot  a  foreboding  that  even  so  broad  a 
hint  would  live  to  be  bettered. 

"  Do  you  suggest  that  I  shall  propose  to  him  to 
come  down  here  again  ? "  she  presently  inquired. 

"  Dear,  no  ;  say  that  you  '11  go  up  to  town  and 
meet  him."  It  was  bettered,  the  broad  hint ;  and 
Fleda  felt  this  to  be  still  more  the  case  when, 
returning  to  the  subject  before  they  went  to  bed, 
her  companion  said  :  "  I  make  him  over  to  you 
wholly,  you  know  —  to  do  what  you  please  with. 
Deal  with  him  in  your  own  clever  way  —  I  ask  no 
questions.  All  I  ask  is  that  you  succeed." 

"That's  charming,"  Fleda  replied,  "but  it 
does  n't  tell  me  a  bit,  you  '11  be  so  good  as  to  con- 
sider, in  what  terms  to  write  to  him.  It 's  not  an 
answer  from  you  to  the  message  I  was  to  give  you." 

"  The  answer  to  his  message  is  perfectly  dis- 
tinct :  he  shall  have  everything  in  the  place  the 
minute  he  '11  say  he  '11  marry  you." 

"  You  really  pretend,"  Fleda  asked,  "to  think 
me  capable  of  transmitting  him  that  news  ?  " 


158  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

"What  else  can  I  really  pretend  when  you 
threaten  so  to  cast  me  off  if  I  speak  the  word 
myself?" 

"Oh,  if  you  speak  the  word!"  the  girl  mur- 
mured very  gravely,  but  happy  at  least  to  know 
that  in  this  direction  Mrs.  Gereth  confessed  her- 
self warned  and  helpless.  Then  she  added : 
"  How  can  I  go  on  living  with  you  on  a  footing 
of  which  I  so  deeply  disapprove  ?  Thinking  as  I 
do  that  you've  despoiled  him  far  more  than  is 
just  or  merciful — for  if  I  expected  you  to  take 
something,  I  didn't  in  the  least  expect  you  to 
take  everything  —  how  can  I  stay  here  without  a 
sense  that  I  'm  backing  you  up  in  your  cruelty 
and  participating  in  your  ill-gotten  gains  ? " 
Fleda  was  determined  that  if  she  had  the  chill  of 
her  exposed  and  investigated  state  she  would  also 
have  the  convenience  of  it,  and  that  if  Mrs. 
Gereth  popped  in  and  out  of  the  chamber  of  her 
soul  she  would  at  least  return  the  freedom.  "  I 
shall  quite  hate,  you  know,  in  a  day  or  two,  every 
object  that  surrounds  you  —  become  blind  to  all 
the  beauty  and  rarity  that  I  formerly  delighted 
in.  Don't  think  me  harsh  ;  there 's  no  use  in  my 
not  being  frank  now.  If  I  leave  you,  everything's 
at  an  end." 

Mrs.  Gereth,  however,  was  imperturbable: 
Fleda  had  to  recognize  that  her  advantage  had 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  159 

become  too  real.  "  It 's  too  beautiful,  the  way 
you  care  for  him  ;  it 's  music  in  my  ears.  Nothing 
else  but  such  a  passion  could  make  you  say  such 
things  ;  that 's  the  way  I  should  have  been  too, 
my  dear.  Why  did  n't  you  tell  me  sooner  ?  I  'd 
have  gone  right  in  for  you  ;  I  never  would  have 
moved  a  candlestick.  Don't  stay  with  me  if  it 
torments  you ;  don't,  if  you  suffer,  be  where  you 
see  the  old  rubbish.  Go  up  to  town  —  go  back 
for  a  little  to  your  father's.  It  need  be  only  for 
a  little ;  two  or  three  weeks  will  see  us  through. 
Your  father  will  take  you  and  be  glad,  if  you  only 
will  make  him  understand  what  it 's  a  question  of 
—  of  your  getting  yourself  off  his  hands  forever. 
I'll  make  him  understand,  you  know,  if  you  feel 
shy.  I  'd  take  you  up  myself,  I  'd  go  with  you, 
to  spare  your  being  bored ;  we  'd  put  up  at  an 
hotel  and  we  might  amuse  ourselves  a  bit.  We 
haven't  had  much  pleasure  since  we  met,  have 
we  ?  But  of  course  that  would  n't  suit  our  book. 
I  should  be  a  bugaboo  to  Owen  —  I  should  be 
fatally  in  the  way.  Your  chance  is  there  —  your 
chance  is  to  be  alone ;  for  God's  sake,  use  it  to 
the  right  end.  If  you  're  in  want  of  money  I  Ve 
a  little  I  can  give  you.  But  I  ask  no  questions  — 
not  a  question  as  small  as  your  shoe !  " 

She  asked  no  questions,  but  she  took  the  most 
extraordinary  things  for  granted.     Fleda  felt  this 


l6o  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

still  more  at  the  end  of  a  couple  of  days.  On  the 
second  of  these  our  young  lady  wrote  to  Owen ; 
her  emotion  had  to  a  certain  degree  cleared  itself 
—  there  was  something  she  could  say  briefly.  If 
she  had  given  everything  to  Mrs.  Gereth  and  as 
yet  got  nothing,  so  she  had  on  the  other  hand 
quickly  reacted  —  it  took  but  a  night  —  against 
the  discouragement  of  her  first  check.  Her 
desire  to  serve  him  was  too  passionate,  the  sense 
that  he  counted  upon  her  too  sweet :  these  things 
caught  her  up  again  and  gave  her  a  new  patience 
and  a  new  subtlety.  It  should  n't  really  be  for 
nothing  that  she  had  given  so  much  ;  deep  within 
her  burned  again  the  resolve  to  get  something 
back.  So  what  she  wrote  to  Owen  was  simply 
that  she  had  had  a  great  scene  with  his  mother, 
but  that  he  must  be  patient  and  give  her  time. 
It  was  difficult,  as  they  both  had  expected,  but 
she  was  working  her  hardest  for  him.  She  had 
made  an  impression  —  she  would  do  everything 
to  follow  it  up.  Meanwhile  he  must  keep  in- 
tensely quiet  and  take  no  other  steps ;  he  must 
only  trust  her  and  pray  for  her  and  believe  in  her 
perfect  loyalty.  She  made  no  allusion  whatever 
to  M.ona's  attitude,  nor  to  his  not  being,  as  re- 
garded that  young  lady,  master  of  the  situation ; 
but  she  said  in  a  postscript,  in  reference  to  his 
mother,  "  Of  course  she  wonders  a  good  deal  why 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  l6l 

your  marriage  doesn't  take  place."  After  the 
letter  had  gone  she  regretted  having  used  the 
word  "loyalty;"  there  were  two  or  three  milder 
terms  which  she  might  as  well  have  employed. 
The  answer  she  immediately  received  from  Owen 
was  a  little  note  of  which  she  met  all  the  deficien- 
cies by  describing  it  to  herself  as  pathetically 
simple,  but  which,  to  prove  that  Mrs.  Gereth 
might  ask  as  many  questions  as  she  liked,  she  at 
once  made  his  mother  read.  He  had  no  art  with 
his  pen,  he  had  not  even  a  good  hand,  and  his 
letter,  a  short  profession  of  friendly  confidence, 
consisted  of  but  a  few  familiar  and  colorless 
words  of  acknowledgment  and  assent.  The  gist 
of  it  was  that  he  would  certainly,  since  Miss 
Vetch  recommended  it,  not  hurry  mamma  too 
much.  He  would  not  for  the  present  cause  her 
to  be  approached  by  any  one  else,  but  he  would 
nevertheless  continue  to  hope  that  she  would  see 
she  must  come  round.  "  Of  course,  you  know," 
he  added,  "  she  can  't  keep  me  waiting  indefi- 
nitely. Please  give  her  my  love  and  tell  her  that. 
If  it  can  be  done  peaceably  I  know  you're  just 
the  one  to  do  it." 

Fleda  had  awaited  his  rejoinder  in  deep  sus- 
pense ;  such  was  her  imagination  of  the  possibil- 
ity of  his  having,  as  she  tacitly  phrased  it,  let 
himself  go  on  paper  that  when  it  arrived  she  was 


1 62  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

at  first  almost  afraid  to  open  it.  There  was 
indeed  a  distinct  danger,  for  if  he  should  take  it 
into  his  head  to  write  her  love-letters  the  whole 
chance  of  aiding  him  would  drop  :  she  would  have 
to  return  them,  she  would  have  to  decline  all 
further  communication  with  him  :  it  would  be 
quite  the  end  of  the  business.  This  imagination 
of  Fleda's  was  a  faculty  that  easily  embraced  all 
the  heights  and  depths  and  extremities  of  things ; 
that  made  a  single  mouthful,  in  particular,  of  any 
tragic  or  desperate  necessity.  She  was  perhaps 
at  first  just  a  trifle  disappointed  not  to  find  in  the 
note  in  question  a  syllable  that  strayed  from  the 
text ;  but  the  next  moment  she  had  risen  to  a 
point  of  view  from  which  it  presented  itself  as  a 
production  almost  inspired  in  its  simplicity.  It 
was  simple  even  for  Owen,  and  she  wondered 
what  had  given  him  the  cue  to  be  more  so  than 
usual.  Then  she  saw  how  natures  that  are  right 
just  do  the  things  that  are  right.  He  wasn't 
clever  —  his  manner  of  writing  showed  it ;  but 
the  cleverest  man  in  England  could  n't  have  had 
more  the  instinct  that,  under  the  circumstances, 
was  the  supremely  happy  one,  the  instinct  of 
giving  her  something  that  would  do  beautifully  to 
be  shown  to  Mrs.  Gereth.  This  was  a  kind  of 
divination,  for  naturally  he  couldn't  know  the 
line  Mrs.  Gereth  was  taking.  It  was  furthermore 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  163 

explained  —  and  that  was  the  most  touching  part 
of  all  —  by  his  wish  that  she  herself  should  notice 
how  awfully  well  he  was  behaving.  His  very 
bareness  called  her  attention  to  his  virtue ;  and 
these  were  the  exact  fruits  of  her  beautiful  and 
terrible  admonition.  He  was  cleaving  to  Mona ; 
he  was  doing  his  duty ;  he  was  making  tremen- 
dously sure  he  should  be  without  reproach. 

If  Fleda  handed  this  communication  to  her 
friend  as  a  triumphant  gage  of  the  innocence  of 
the  young  man's  heart,  her  elation  lived  but  a 
moment  after  Mrs.  Gereth  had  pounced  upon  the 
tell-tale  spot  in  it.  "Why  in  the  world,  then," 
that  lady  cried,  "does  he  still  not  breathe  a 
breath  about  the  day,  the  day,  the  DAY  ? "  She 
repeated  the  word  with  a  crescendo  of  superior 
acuteness  ;  she  proclaimed  that  nothing  could  be 
more  marked  than  its  absence  —  an  absence  that 
simply  spoke  volumes.  What  did  it  prove  in  fine 
but  that  she  was  producing  the  effect  she  had 
toiled  for  —  that  she  had  settled  or  was  rapidly 
settling  Mona  ? 

Such  a  challenge  Fleda  was  obliged  in  some 
manner  to  take  up.  "  You  may  be  settling 
Mona,"  she  returned  with  a  smile,  "but  I  can 
hardly  regard  it  as  sufficient  evidence  that  you  're 
settling  Mona's  lover." 

"  Why  not,  with  such  a  studied  omission  on  his 


164  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

part  to  gloss  over  in  any  manner  the  painful 
tension  existing  between  them  —  the  painful  ten- 
sion that,  under  providence,  I  Ve  been  the  means 
of  bringing  about  ?  He  gives  you  by  his  silence 
clear  notice  that  his  marriage  is  practically  off." 

"He  speaks  to  me  of  the  only  thing  that 
concerns  me.  He  gives  me  clear  notice  that  he 
abates  not  one  jot  of  his  demand." 

"  Well,  then,  let  him  take  the  only  way  to  get 
it  satisfied." 

Fleda  had  no  need  to  ask  again  what  such  a 
way  might  be,  nor  was  her  support  removed  by 
the  fine  assurance  with  which  Mrs.  Gereth  could 
make  her  argument  wait  upon  her  wish.  These 
days,  which  dragged  their  length  into  a  strange, 
uncomfortable  fortnight,  had  already  borne  more 
testimony  to  that  element  than  all  the  other  time 
the  two  women  had  passed  together.  Our  young 
lady  had  been  at  first  far  from  measuring  the 
whole  of  a  feature  that  Owen  himself  would  prob- 
ably have  described  as  her  companion's  "  cheek." 
She  lived  now  in  a  kind  of  bath  of  boldness,  felt 
as  if  a  fierce  light  poured  in  upon  her  from 
windows  opened  wide ;  and  the  singular  part  of 
the  ordeal  was  that  she  could  n't  protest  against 
it  fully  without  incurring,  even  to  her  own  mind, 
some  reproach  of  ingratitude,  some  charge  of 
smallness.  If  Mrs.  Gereth's  apparent  determina- 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  165 

tion  to  hustle  her  into  Owen's  arms  was  accom- 
panied with  an  air  of  holding  her  dignity  rather 
cheap,  this  was  after  all  only  as  a  consequence  of 
her  being  held  in  respect  to  some  other  attributes 
rather  dear.  It  was  a  new  version  of  the  old 
story  of  being  kicked  upstairs.  The  wonderful 
woman  was  the  same  woman  who,  in  the  summer, 
at  Poynton,  had  been  so  puzzled  to  conceive  why 
a  good-natured  girl  should  n't  have  contributed 
more  to  the  personal  rout  of  the  Brigstocks  — 
should  n't  have  been  grateful  even  for  the  hand- 
some puff  of  Fleda  Vetch.  Only  her  passion  was 
keener  now  and  her  scruple  more  absent ;  the 
fight  made  a  demand  upon  her,  and  her  pugnacity 
had  become  one  with  her  constant  habit  of  using 
such  weapons  as  she  could  pick  up.  She  had  no 
imagination  about  anybody's  life  save  on  the  side 
she  bumped  against.  Fleda  was  quite  aware  that 
she  would  have  otherwise  been  a  rare  creature ; 
but  a  rare  creature  was  originally  just  what  she 
had  struck  her  as  being.  Mrs.  Gereth  had  really 
no  perception  of  anybody's  nature  —  had  only 
one  question  about  persons :  were  they  clever  or 
stupid  ?  To  be  clever  meant  to  know  the  marks. 
Fleda  knew  them  by  direct  inspiration,  and  a 
warm  recognition  of  this  had  been  her  friend's 
tribute  to  her  character.  The  girl  had  hours, 
now,  of  sombre  wishing  that  she  might  never  see 


1 66  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

anything  good  again  :  that  kind  of  experience  was 
evidently  not  an  infallible  source  of  peace.  She 
would  be  more  at  peace  in  some  vulgar  little 
place  that  should  owe  its  cachet  to  Tottenham 
Court  Road.  There  were  nice  strong  horrors  in 
West  Kensington ;  it  was  as  if  they  beckoned  her 
and  wooed  her  back  to  them.  She  had  a  relaxed 
recollection  of  Waterbath  ;  and  of  her  reasons  for 
staying  on  at  Ricks  the  force  was  rapidly  ebbing. 
One  of  these  was  her  pledge  to  Owen  —  her  vow 
to  press  his  mother  close  ;  the  other  was  the  fact 
that  of  the  two  discomforts,  that  of  being  prodded 
by  Mrs.  Gereth  and  that  of  appearing  to  run  after 
somebody  else,  the  former  remained  for  a  while 
the  more  endurable. 

As  the  days  passed,  however,  it  became  plainer 
to  Fleda  that  her  only  chance  of  success  would 
be  in  lending  herself  to  this  low  appearance. 
Then,  moreover,  at  last,  her  nerves  settling  the 
question,  the  choice  was  simply  imposed  by  the 
violence  done  to  her  taste  —  to  whatever  was 
left  of  that  high  principle,  at  least,  after  the  free 
and  reckless  meeting,  for  months,  of  great  drafts 
and  appeals.  It  was  all  very  well  to  try  to  evade 
discussion :  Owen  Gereth  was  looking  to  her  for 
a  struggle,  and  it  was  n't  a  bit  of  a  struggle  to  be 
disgusted  and  dumb.  She  was  on  too  strange  a 
footing  —  that  of  having  presented  an  ultimatum 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  l6/ 

and  having  had  it  torn  up  in  her  face.  In  such  a 
case  as  that  the  envoy  always  departed ;  he  never 
sat  gaping  and  dawdling  before  the  city.  Mrs. 
Gereth,  every  morning,  looked  publicly  into  "  The 
Morning  Post,"  the  only  newspaper  she  received ; 
and  every  morning  she  treated  the  blankness  of 
that  journal  as  fresh  evidence  that  everything 
was  "  off."  What  did  the  Post  exist  for  but  to 
tell  you  your  children  were  wretchedly  married  ? 

—  so  that  if  such  a  source  of  misery  was   dry, 
what   could  you  do  but  infer  that  for  once  you 
had  miraculously  escaped  ?     She  almost  taunted 
Fleda  with  supineness  in  not  getting  something 
out  of  somebody — in  the  same  breath  indeed  in 
which  she  drenched  her  with  a  kind  of  apprecia- 
tion more  onerous  to  the  girl  than  blame.     Mrs. 
Gereth  herself  had  of  course  washed  her  hands  of 
the  matter ;  but   Fleda  knew  people  who   knew 
Mona  and  would  be  sure  to  be  in  her  confidence 

—  inconceivable  people  who  admired  her  and  had 
the  privilege  of  Waterbath.     What  was  the  use 
therefore   of   being    the   most   natural   and   the 
easiest  of  letter-writers,  if  no  sort  of  side-light; — 
in  some  pretext  for  correspondence  —  was,  by  a 
brilliant   creature,  to   be   got   out   of   such   bar- 
barians ?     Fleda  was  not  only  a  brilliant  creature, 
but  she  heard  herself  commended  in  these  days 
for   new    and   strange   attractions ;   she   figured 


1 68  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

suddenly,  in  the  queer  conversations  of  Ricks,  as 
a  distinguished,  almost  as  a  dangerous  beauty. 
That  retouching  of  her  hair  and  dress  in  which 
her  friend  had  impulsively  indulged  on  a  first 
glimpse  of  her  secret  was  by  implication  very 
frequently  repeated.  She  had  the  sense  not  only 
of  being  advertised  and  offered,  but  of  being 
counseled  and  enlightened  in  ways  that  she 
scarcely  understood  —  arts  obscure  even  to  a 
poor  girl  who  had  had,  in  good  society  and 
motherless  poverty,  to  look  straight  at  realities 
and  fill  out  blanks. 

These  arts,  when  Mrs.  Gereth's  spirits  were 
high,  were  handled  with  a  brave  and  cynical 
humor  with  which  Fleda's  fancy  could  keep  no 
step  :  they  left  our  young  lady  wondering  what 
on  earth  her  companion  wanted  her  to  do.  "  I 
want  you  to  cut  in  !  "  —  that  was  Mrs.  Gereth's 
familiar  and  comprehensive  phrase  for  the  course 
she  prescribed.  She  challenged  again  and  again 
Fleda's  picture,  as  she  called  it  (though  the 
sketch  was  too  slight  to  deserve  the  name),  of  the 
indifference  to  which  a  prior  attachment  had 
committed  the  proprietor  of  Poynton.  "  Do  you 
mean  to  say  that,  Mona  or  no  Mona,  he  could  see 
you  that  way,  day  after  day,  and  not  have  the 
ordinary  feelings  of  a  man  ?  "  This  was  the  sort 
of  interrogation  to  which  Fleda  was  fitfully  and 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  169 

irrelevantly  treated.  She  had  grown  almost  used 
to  the  refrain.  "  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  when, 
the  other  day,  one  had  quite  made  you  over 
to  him,  the  great  gawk,  and  he  was,  on  this  very 
spot,  utterly  alone  with  you  —  ?  "  The  poor 
girl  at  this  point  never  left  any  doubt  of  what 
she  meant  to  say,  but  Mrs.  Gereth  could  be 
trusted  to  break  out  in  another  place  and  at 
another  time.  At  last  Fleda  wrote  to  her  father 
that  he  must  take  her  in  for  a  while  ;  and  when, 
to  her  companion's  delight,  she  returned  to 
London,  that  lady  went  with  her  to  the  station 
and  wafted  her  on  her  way.  "  The  Morning 
Post  "  had  been  delivered  as  they  left  the  house, 
and  Mrs.  Gereth  had  brought  it  with  her  for  the 
traveler,  who  never  spent  a  penny  on  a  news- 
paper. On  the  platform,  however,  when  this 
young  person  was  ticketed,  labeled,  and  seated, 
she  opened  it  at  the  window  of  the  carriage, 
exclaiming  as  usual,  after  looking  into  it  a  mo- 
ment :  "  Nothing  —  nothing  —  nothing  :  don't 
tell  me!"  Every  day  that  there  was  nothing 
was  a  nail  in  the  coffin  of  the  marriage.  An 
instant  later  the  train  was  off,  but,  moving  quickly 
beside  it,  while  Fleda  leaned  inscrutably  forth, 
Mrs.  Gereth  grasped  her  friend's  hand  and 
looked  up  with  wonderful  eyes.  "  Only  let  your- 
self go,  darling  —  only  let  yourself  go  !  " 


XIII 

THAT  she  desired  to  ask  no  questions  Mrs. 
Gereth  conscientiously  proved  by  closing  her 
lips  tight  after  Fleda  had  gone  to  London.  No 
letter  from  Ricks  arrived  at  West  Kensington, 
and  Fleda,  with  nothing  to  communicate  that 
could  be  to  the  taste  of  either  party,  forbore  to 
open  a  correspondence.  If  her  heart  had  been 
less  heavy  she  might  have  been  amused  to  per- 
ceive how  much  rope  this  reticence  of  Ricks 
seemed  to  signify  to  her  that  she  could  take. 
She  had  at  all  events  no  good  news  for  her  friend 
save  in  the  sense  that  her  silence  was  not  bad 
news.  She  was  not  yet  in  a  position  to  write 
that  she  had  "  cut  in  ;  "  but  neither,  on  the  other 
hand,  had  she  gathered  material  for  announcing 
that  Mona  was  undisseverable  from  her  prey. 
She  had  made  no  use  of  the  pen  so  glorified  by 
Mrs.  Gereth  to  wake  up  the  echoes  of  Waterbath  ; 
she  had  sedulously  abstained  from  inquiring  what 
in  any  quarter,  far  or  near,  was  said  or  suggested 
or  supposed.  She  only  spent  a  matutinal  penny 
on  "  The  Morning  Post ;  "  she  only  saw,  on  each 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  I/I 

occasion,  that  that  inspired  sheet  had  as  little  to 
say  about  the  imminence  as  about  the  abandon- 
ment of  certain  nuptials.  It  was  at  the  same 
time  obvious  that  Mrs.  Gereth  triumphed  on 
these  occasions  much  more  than  she  trembled, 
and  that  with  a  few  such  triumphs  repeated  she 
would  cease  to  tremble  at  all.  What  was  most 
manifest,  however,  was  that  she  had  had  a  rare 
preconception  of  the  circumstances  that  would 
have  ministered,  had  Fleda  been  disposed,  to  the 
girl's  cutting  in.  It  was  brought  home  to  Fleda 
that  these  circumstances  would  have  particularly 
favored  intervention  ;  she  was  quickly  forced  to 
do  them  a  secret  justice.  One  of  the  effects  of 
her  intimacy  with  Mrs.  Gereth  was  that  she  had 
quite  lost  all  sense  of  intimacy  with  any  one  else. 
The  lady  of  Ricks  had  made  a  desert  around  her, 
possessing  and  absorbing  her  so  utterly  that 
other  partakers  had  fallen  away.  Had  n't  she 
been  admonished,  months  before,  that  people  con- 
sidered they  had  lost  her  and  were  reconciled 
on  the  whole  to  the  privation  ?  Her  present 
position  in  the  great  unconscious  town  defined 
itself  as  obscure :  she  regarded  it  at  any  rate 
with  eyes  suspicious  of  that  lesson.  She  neither 
wrote  notes  nor  received  them ;  she  indulged  in 
no  reminders  nor  knocked  at  any  doors;  she 
wandered  vaguely  in  the  western  wilderness  or 


1/2  THE  SPOILS  OF-POYNTON 

cultivated  shy  forms  of  that  "  household  art "  for 
which  she  had  had  a  respect  before  tasting  the 
bitter  tree  of  knowledge.  Her  only  plan  was  to 
be  as  quiet  as  a  mouse,  and  when  she  failed  in 
the  attempt  to  lose  herself  in  the  flat  suburb  she 
felt  like  a  lonely  fly  crawling  over  a  dusty  chart. 

How  had  Mrs.  Gereth  known  in  advance  that 
if  she  had  chosen  to  be  "vile"  (that  was  what 
Fleda  called  it)  everything  would  happen  to  help 
her  ?  —  especially  the  way  her  poor  father,  after 
breakfast,  doddered  off  to  his  club,  showing 
seventy  when  he  was  really  fifty-seven,  and  leav- 
ing her  richly  alone  for  the  day.  He  came  back 
about  midnight,  looking  at  her  very  hard  and  not 
risking  long  words  —  only  making  her  feel  by  in- 
imitable touches  that  the  presence  of  his  family 
compelled  him  to  alter  all  his  hours.  She  had  in 
their  common  sitting-room  the  company  of  the 
objects  he  was  fond  of  saying  that  he  had  col- 
lected —  objects,  shabby  and  battered,  of  a  sort 
that  appealed  little  to  his  daughter :  old  brandy- 
flasks  and  match-boxes,  old  calendars  and  hand- 
books, intermixed  with  an  assortment  of  pen- 
wipers and  ash-trays,  a  harvest  he  had  gathered 
in  from  penny  bazaars.  He  was  blandly  uncon- 
scious of  that  side  of  Fleda's  nature  which  had 
endeared  her  to  Mrs.  Gereth,  and  she  had  often 
heard  him  wish  to  goodness  there  was  something 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  173 

striking  she  cared  for.  Why  did  n't  she  try  col- 
lecting something  ?  —  it  did  n't  matter  what.  She 
would  find  it  gave  an  interest  to  life,  and  there 
was  no  end  of  little  curiosities  one  could  easily 
pick  up.  He  was  conscious  of  having  a  taste  for 
fine  things  which  his  children  had  unfortunately 
not  inherited.  This  indicated  the  limits  of  their 
acquaintance  with  him  —  limits  which,  as  Fleda 
was  now  sharply  aware,  could  only  leave  him  to 
wonder  what  the  mischief  she  was  there  for.  As 
she  herself  echoed  this  question  to  the  letter  she 
was  not  in  a  position  to  clear  up  the  mystery. 
She  could  n't  have  given  a  name  to  her  errand  in 
town  or  explained  it  save  by  saying  that  she  had 
had  to  get  away  from  Ricks.  It  was  intensely 
provisional,  but  what  was  to  come  next  ?  Nothing 
could  come  next  but  a  deeper  anxiety.  She  had 
neither  a  home  nor  an  outlook  —  nothing  in  all 
the  wide  world  but  a  feeling  of  suspense. 

Of  course  she  had  her  duty — her  duty  to 
Owen — a  definite  undertaking,  reaffirmed,  after 
his  visit  to  Ricks,  under  her  hand  and  seal ;  but 
there  was  no  sense  of  possession  attached  to 
that ;  there  was  only  a  horrible  sense  of  privation. 
She  had  quite  moved  from  under  Mrs.  Gereth's 
wide  wing ;  and  now  that  she  was  really  among 
the  pen-wipers  and  ash-trays  she  was  swept,  at 
the  thought  of  all  the  beauty  she  had  forsworn, 


174  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

by  short,  wild  gusts  of  despair.  If  her  friend 
should  really  keep  the  spoils  she  would  never 
return  to  her.  If  that  friend  should  on  the  other 
hand  part  with  them,  what  on  earth  would  there 
be  to  return  to  ?  The  chill  struck  deep  as  Fleda 
thought  of  the  mistress  of  Ricks  reduced,  in  vul- 
gar parlance,  to  what  she  had  on  her  back :  there 
was  nothing  to  which  she  could  compare  such  an 
image  but  her  idea  of  Marie  Antoinette  in  the 
Conciergerie,  or  perhaps  the  vision  of  some  trop- 
ical bird,  the  creature  of  hot,  dense  forests, 
dropped  on  a  frozen  moor  to  pick  up  a  living. 
The  mind's  eye  could  see  Mrs.  Gereth,  indeed, 
only  in  her  thick,  colored  air  ;  it  took  all  the  light 
of  her  treasures  to  make  her  concrete  and  dis- 
tinct. She  loomed  for  a  moment,  in  any  mere 
house,  gaunt  and  unnatural ;  then  she  vanished 
as  if  she  had  suddenly  sunk  into  a  quicksand. 
Fleda  lost  herself  in  the  rich  fancy  of  how,  if  she 
were  mistress  of  Poynton,  a  whole  province,  as 
an  abode,  should  be  assigned  there  to  the  august 
queen-mother.  She  would  have  returned  from 
her  campaign  with  her  baggage-train  and  her 
loot,  and  the  palace  would  unbar  its  shutters  and 
the  morning  flash  back  from  its  halls.  In  the 
event  of  a  surrender  the  poor  woman  would  never 
again  be  able  to  begin  to  collect :  she  was  now 
too  old  and  too  moneyless,  and  times  were  al- 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  1/5 

tered  and  good  things  impossibly  dear.  A  sur- 
render, furthermore,  to  any  daughter-in-law  save 
an  oddity  like  Mona  need  n't  at  all  be  an  abdica- 
tion in  fact ;  any  other  fairly  nice  girl  whom 
Owen  should  have  taken  it  into  his  head  to  marry 
would  have  been  positively  glad  to  have,  for  the 
museum,  a  custodian  who  was  a  walking  cata- 
logue and  who  understood  beyond  any  one  in 
England  the  hygiene  and  temperament  of  rare 
pieces.  A  fairly  nice  girl  would  somehow  be 
away  a  good  deal  and  would  at  such  times  count 
it  a  blessing  to  feel  Mrs.  Gereth  at  her  post. 

Fleda  had  fully  recognized,  the  first  days,  that, 
quite  apart  from  any  question  of  letting  Owen 
know  where  she  was,  it  would  be  a  charity  to 
give  him  some  sign :  it  would  be  weak,  it  would 
be  ugly,  to  be  diverted  from  that  kindness  by  the 
fact  that  Mrs.  Gereth  had  attached  a  tinkling  bell 
to  it.  A  frank  relation  with  him  was  only  super- 
ficially discredited  :  she  ought  for  his  own  sake 
to  send  him  a  word  of  cheer.  So  she  repeatedly 
reasoned,  but  she  as  repeatedly  delayed  perform- 
ance :  if  her  general  plan  had  been  to  be  as  still 
as  a  mouse,  an  interview  like  the  interview  at 
Ricks  would  be  an  odd  contribution  to  that  ideal. 
Therefore  with  a  confused  preference  of  practice 
to  theory  she  let  the  days  go  by ;  she  felt  that 
nothing  was  so  imperative  as  the  gain  of  precious 


1/6  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

time.  She  should  n't  be  able  to  stay  with  her 
father  forever,  but  she  might  now  reap  the  bene- 
fit of  having  married  her  sister.  Maggie's  union 
had  been  built  up  round  a  small  spare  room. 
Concealed  in  this  apartment  she  might  try  to 
paint  again,  and  abetted  by  the  grateful  Maggie 
—  for  Maggie  at  least  was  grateful  —  she  might 
try  to  dispose  of  her  work.  She  had  not  indeed 
struggled  with  a  brush  since  her  visit  to  Water- 
bath,  where  the  sight  of  the  family  splotches  had 
put  her  immensely  on  her  guard.  Poynton  more- 
over had  been  an  impossible  place  for  producing ; 
no  active  art  could  flourish  there  but  a  Buddhis- 
tic contemplation.  It  had  stripped  its  mistress 
clean  of  all  feeble  accomplishments  ;  her  hands 
were  imbrued  neither  with  ink  nor  with  water- 
color.  Close  to  Fleda's  present  abode  was  the 
little  shop  of  a  man  who  mounted  and  framed 
pictures  and  desolately  dealt  in  artists'  materials. 
She  sometimes  paused  before  it  to  look  at  a 
couple  of  shy  experiments  for  which  its  dull  win- 
dow constituted  publicity,  small  studies  placed 
there  for  sale  and  full  of  warning  to  a  young  lady 
without  fortune  and  without  talent.  Some  such 
young  lady  had  brought  them  forth  in  sorrow  ; 
some  such  young  lady,  to  see  if  they  had  been 
snapped  up,  had  passed  and  repassed  as  help- 
lessly as  she  herself  was  doing.  They  never  had 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  177 

been,  they  never  would  be,  snapped  up  ;  yet  they 
were  quite  above  the  actual  attainment  of  some 
other  young  ladies.  It  was  a  matter  of  discipline 
with  Fleda  to  take  an  occasional  lesson  from 
them ;  besides  which,  when  she  now  quitted  the 
house,  she  had  to  look  for  reasons  after  she  was 
out.  The  only  place  to  find  them  was  in  the 
shop-windows.  They  made  her  feel  like  a  ser- 
vant-girl taking  her  "  afternoon,"  but  that  did  n't 
signify  :  perhaps  some  day  she  would  resemble 
such  a  person  still  more  closely.  This  continued 
a  fortnight,  at  the  end  of  which  the  feeling  was 
suddenly  dissipated.  She  had  stopped  as  usual 
in  the  presence  of  the  little  pictures  ;  then,  as 
she  turned  away,  she  had  found  herself  face  to 
face  with  Owen  Gereth. 

At  the  sight  of  him  two  fresh  waves  passed 
quickly  across  her  heart,  one  at  the  heels  of  the 
other.  The  first  was  an  instant  perception  that 
this  encounter  was  not  an  accident ;  the  second  a 
consciousness  as  prompt  that  the  best  place  for 
it  was  the  street.  She  knew  before  he  told  her 
that  he  had  been  to  see  her,  and  the  next  thing 
she  knew  was  that  he  had  had  information  from 
his  mother.  Her  mind  grasped  these  things 
while  he  said  with  a  smile :  "  I  saw  only  your 
back,  but  I  was  sure.  I  was  over  the  way.  I  've 
been  at  your  house." 


1/8  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

"  How  came  you  to  know  my  house  ?  "  Fleda 
asked. 

"  I  like  that !  "  he  laughed.  "  How  came  you 
not  to  let  me  know  that  you  were  there  ? " 

Fleda,  at  this,  thought  it  best  also  to  laugh. 
"Since  I  didn't  let  you  know,  why  did  you 
come  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  say !  "  cried  Owen.  "  Don't  add  insult 
to  injury.  Why  in  the  world  did  n't  you  let  me 
know  ?  I  came  because  I  want  awfully  to  see 
you."  He  hesitated,  then  he  added  :  "  I  got  the 
tip  from  mother :  she  has  written  to  me  — 
fancy  ! " 

They  still  stood  where  they  had  met.  Fleda's 
instinct  was  to  keep  him  there  ;  the  more  so  that 
she  could  already  see  him  take  for  granted  that 
they  would  immediately  proceed  together  to  her 
door.  He  rose  before  her  with  a  different  air : 
he  looked  less  ruffled  and  bruised  than  he  had 
done  at  Ricks,  he  showed  a  recovered  freshness. 
Perhaps,  however,  this  was  only  because  she  had 
scarcely  seen  him  at  all  as  yet  in  London  form, 
as  he  would  have  called  it  —  "  turned  out  "  as  he 
was  turned  out  in  town.  In  the  country,  heated 
with  the  chase  and  splashed  with  the  mire,  he 
had  always  rather  reminded  her  of  a  picturesque 
peasant  in  national  costume.  This  costume,  as 
Owen  wore  it,  varied  from  day  to  day  ;  it  was  as 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  1/9 

copious  as  the  wardrobe  of  an  actor ;  but  it  never 
failed  of  suggestions  of  the  earth  and  the  weather, 
the  hedges  and  the  ditches,  the  beasts  and  the 
birds.  There  had  been  days  when  it  struck  her 
as  all  nature  in  one  pair  of  boots.  It  did  n't 
make  him  now  another  person  that  he  was  deli- 
cately dressed,  shining  and  splendid  —  that  he 
had  a  higher  hat  and  light  gloves  with  black 
seams,  and  a  spearlike  umbrella ;  but  it  made 
him,  she  soon  decided,  really  handsomer,  and 
that  in  turn  gave  him  —  for  she  never  could 
think  of  him,  or  indeed  of  some  other  things, 
without  the  aid  of  his  vocabulary  —  a  tremendous 
pull.  Yes,  this  was  for  the  moment,  as  he  looked 
at  her,  the  great  fact  of  their  situation  —  his  pull 
was  tremendous.  She  tried  to  keep  the  acknow- 
ledgement of  it  from  trembling  in  her  voice  as 
she  said  to  him  with  more  surprise  than  she 
really  felt :  "  You  Ve  then  reopened  relations 
with  her  ? " 

"  It 's  she  who  has  reopened  them  with  me. 
I  got  her  letter  this  morning.  She  told  me  you 
were  here  and  that  she  wished  me  to  know  it. 
She  did  n't  say  much ;  she  just  gave  me  your 
address.  I  wrote  her  back,  you  know,  *  Thanks 
no  end.  Shall  go  to-day.'  So  we  are  in  corre- 
spondence again,  are  n't  we  ?  She  means  of 
course  that  you  've  something  to  tell  me  from 


180  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

her,  eh  ?  But  if  you  have,  why  have  n't  you  let 
a  fellow  know?"  He  waited  for  no  answer  to 
this,  he  had  so  much  to  say.  "  At  your  house, 
just  now,  they  told  me  how  long  you  Ve  been 
here.  Have  n't  you  known  all  the  while  that  I  'm 
counting  the  hours  ?  I  left  a  word  for  you  — 
that  I  would  be  back  at  six ;  but  I  'm  awfully  glad 
to  have  caught  you  so  much  sooner.  You  don't 
mean  to  say  you  're  not  going  home  ! "  he  ex- 
claimed in  dismay.  "  The  young  woman  there 
told  me  you  went  out  early." 

"  I  've  been  out  a  very  short  time,"  said  Fleda, 
who  had  hung  back  with  the  general  purpose  of 
making  things  difficult  for  him.  The  street 
would  make  them  difficult ;  she  could  trust  the 
street.  She  reflected  in  time,  however,  that  to 
betray  to  him  she  was  afraid  to  admit  him  would 
give  him  more  a  feeling  of  facility  than  of  any- 
thing else.  She  moved  on  with  him  after  a 
moment,  letting  him  direct  their  course  to  her 
door,  which  was  only  round  a  corner :  she  con- 
sidered as  they  went  that  it  might  not  prove 
such  a  stroke  to  have  been  in  London  so  long 
and  yet  not  to  have  called  him.  She  desired  he 
should  feel  she  was  perfectly  simple  with  him, 
and  there  was  no  simplicity  in  that.  None  the 
less,  on  the  steps  of  the  house,  though  she  had  a 
key,  she  rang  the  bell ;  and  while  they  waited 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  i8l 

together  and  she  averted  her  face  she  looked 
straight  into  the  depths  of  what  Mrs.  Gereth  had 
meant  by  giving  him  the  "  tip."  This  had  been 
perfidious,  had  been  monstrous  of  Mrs.  Gereth, 
and  Fleda  wondered  if  her  letter  had  contained 
only  what  Owen  repeated. 


XIV 

WHEN  Owen  and  Fleda  were  in  her  father's 
little  place  and,  among  the  brandy-flasks  and  pen- 
wipers, still  more  disconcerted  and  divided,  the 
girl  —  to  do  something,  though  it  would  make 
him  stay  —  had  ordered  tea,  he  put  the  letter  be- 
fore her  quite  as  if  he  had  guessed  her  thought. 
"She's  still  a  bit  nasty  —  f ancy  !"  He  handed 
her  the  scrap  of  a  note  which  he  had  pulled  out 
of  his  pocket  and  from  its  envelope.  "  Fleda 
Vetch,"  it  ran,  "is  at  10  Raphael  Road,  West 
Kensington.  Go  to  see  her,  and  try,  for  God's 
sake,  to  cultivate  a  glimmer  of  intelligence." 
When  in  handing  it  back  to  him  she  took  in  his 
face  she  saw  that  its  heightened  color  was  the 
effect  of  his  watching  her  read  such  an  allusion  to 
his  want  of  wit.  Fleda  knew  what  it  was  an  allu- 
sion to,  and  his  pathetic  air  of  having  received 
this  buffet,  tall  and  fine  and  kind  as  he  stood 
there,  made  her  conscious  of  not  quite  concealing 
her  knowledge.  For  a  minute  she  was  kept  silent 
by  an  angered  sense  of  the  trick  that  had  been 
played  her.  It  was  a  trick  because  Fleda  con- 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  183 

sidered  there  had  been  a  covenant ;  and  the  trick 
consisted  of  Mrs.  Gereth's  having  broken  the 
spirit  of  their  agreement  while  conforming  in  a 
fashion  to  the  letter.  Under  the  girl's  menace 
of  a  complete  rupture  she  had  been  afraid  to 
make  of  her  secret  the  use  she  itched  to  make  ; 
but  in  the  course  of  these  days  of  separation  she 
had  gathered  pluck  to  hazard  an  indirect  betrayal. 
Fleda  measured  her  hesitations  and  the  impulse 
which  she  had  finally  obeyed  and  which  the  con- 
tinued procrastination  of  Waterbath  had  encour- 
aged, had  at  last  made  irresistible.  If  in  her 
high-handed  manner  of  playing  their  game  she 
had  not  named  the  thing  hidden,  she  had  named 
the  hiding-place.  It  was  over  the  sense  of  this 
wrong  that  Fleda' s  lips  closed  tight :  she  was 
afraid  of  aggravating  her  case  by  some  ejacula- 
tion that  would  make  Owen  prick  up  his  ears. 
A  great,  quick  effort,  however,  helped  her  to 
avoid  the  danger;  with  her  constant  idea  of 
keeping  cool  and  repressing  a  visible  flutter,  she 
found  herself  able  to  choose  her  words.  Mean- 
while he  had  exclaimed  with  his  uncomfortable 
laugh  :  "  That 's  a  good  one  for  me,  Miss  Vetch, 
is  n't  it?" 

"  Of  course  you  know  by  this  time  that  your 
mother  's  very  sharp,"  said  Fleda. 

"  I  think  I  can  understand  well  enough  when  I 


1 84  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

know  what 's  to  be  understood/'  the  young  man 
asserted.  "  But  I  hope  you  won't  mind  my  say- 
ing that  you  Ve  kept  me  pretty  well  in  the  dark 
about  that.  I  Ve  been  waiting,  waiting,  waiting  ; 
so  much  has  depended  on  your  news.  If  you  've 
been  working  for  me  I  'm  afraid  it  has  been  a 
thankless  job.  Can't  she  say  what  she  '11  do,  one 
way  or  the  other  ?  I  can't  tell  in  the  least  where 
I  am,  you  know.  I  haven't  really  learnt  from 
you,  since  I  saw  you  there,  where  she  is.  You 
wrote  me  to  be  patient,  and  upon  my  soul  I  have 
been.  But  I  'm  afraid  you  don't  quite  realize 
what  I  'm  to  be  patient  with.  At  Waterbath, 
don't  you  know  ?  I  've  simply  to  account  and 
answer  for  the  damned  things.  Mona  looks  at 
me  and  waits,  and  I,  hang  it,  I  look  at  you  and 
do  the  same."  Fleda  had  gathered  fuller  confi- 
dence as  he  continued ;  so  plain  was  it  that  she 
had  succeeded  in  not  dropping  into  his  mind  the 
spark  that  might  produce  the  glimmer  invoked 
by  his  mother.  But  even  this  fine  assurance 
gave  a  start  when,  after  an  appealing  pause,  he 
went  on  :  "I  hope,  you  know,  that  after  all  you  're 
not  keeping  anything  back  from  me." 

In  the  full  face  of  what  she  was  keeping  back 
such  a  hope  could  only  make  her  wince ;  but  she 
was  prompt  with  her  explanations  in  proportion 
as  she  felt  they  failed  to  meet  him.  The  smutty 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  185 

maid  came  in  with  tea-things,  and  Fleda,  moving 
several  objects,  eagerly  accepted  the  diversion  of 
arranging  a  place  for  them  on  one  of  the  tables. 
"  I  Ve  been  trying  to  break  your  mother  down 
because  it  has  seemed  there  may  be  some  chance 
of  it.  That 's  why  I  've  let  you  go  on  expecting 
it.  She 's  too  proud  to  veer  round  all  at  once, 
but  I  think  I  speak  correctly  in  saying  that  I  Ve 
made  an  impression." 

In  spite  of  ordering  tea  she  had  not  invited 
him  to  sit  down ;  she  herself  made  a  point  of 
standing.  He  hovered  by  the  window  that 
looked  into  Raphael  Road ;  she  kept  at  the  other 
side  of  the  room ;  the  stunted  slavey,  gazing 
wide-eyed  at  the  beautiful  gentleman  and  either 
stupidly  or  cunningly  bringing  but  one  thing  at  a 
time,  came  and  went  between  the  tea-tray  and 
the  open  door. 

"  You  pegged  at  her  so  hard  ?  "  Owen  asked. 

"  I  explained  to  her  fully  your  position  and  put 
before  her  much  more  strongly  than  she  liked 
what  seemed  to  me  her  absolute  duty." 

Owen  waited  a  little.  "And  having  done 
that,  you  departed  ?  " 

Fleda  felt  the  full  need  of  giving  a  reason  for 
her  departure  ;  bu-t  at  first  she  only  said  with 
cheerful  frankness  :  "  I  departed." 

Her  companion  again  looked  at  her  in  silence. 


1 86  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

"I   thought   you  had   gone   to   her  for   several 
months." 

"  Well,"  Fleda  replied,  "  I  could  n't  stay.  I 
did  n't  like  it.  I  did  n't  like  it  at  all  —  I  could  n't 
bear  it,"  she  went  on.  "  In  the  midst  of  those 
trophies  of  Poynton,  living  with  them,  touching 
them,  using  them,  I  felt  as  if  I  were  backing 
her  up.  As  I  was  not  a  bit  of  an  accomplice,  as 
I  hate  what  she  has  done,  I  did  n't  want  to  be, 
even  to  the  extent  of  the  mere  look  of  it  —  what 
is  it  you  call  such  people  ?  —  an  accessory  after 
the  fact."  There  was  something  she  kept  back 
so  rigidly  that  the  joy  of  uttering  the  rest  was 
double.  She  felt  the  sharpest  need  of  giving  him 
all  the  other  truth.  There  was  a  matter  as  to 
which  she  had  deceived  him,  and  there  was  a 
matter  as  to  which  she  had  deceived  Mrs.  Gereth, 
but  her  lack  of  pleasure  in  deception  as  such 
came  home  to  her  now.  She  busied  herself  with 
the  tea  and,  to  extend  the  occupation,  cleared  the 
table  still  more,  spreading  out  the  coarse  cups 
and  saucers  and  the  vulgar  little  plates.  She 
was  aware  that  she  produced  more  confusion 
than-  symmetry,  but  she  was  also  aware  that  she 
was  violently  nervous.  Owen  tried  to  help  her 
with  something  :  this  made  rather  for  disorder. 
"  My  reason  for  not  writing  to  you,"  she  pursued, 
"  was  simply  that  I  was  hoping  to  hear  more 


THE   SPOILS   OF  POYNTON  187 

from  Ricks.  I've  waited  from*  day  to  day  for 
that." 

"  But  you  've  heard  nothing  ? " 

"  Not  a  word." 

"Then  what  I  understand,"  said  Owen,  "is 
that,  practically,  you  and  Mummy  have  quarreled. 
And  you  Ve  done  it  —  I  mean  you  personally  — 
for  me" 

"  Oh  no,  we  have  n't  quarreled  a  bit  !  "  Then 
with  a  smile  :  "  We've  only  diverged." 

"  You  Ve  diverged  uncommonly  far  !  "  —  Owen 
laughed  back.  Fleda,  with  her  hideous  crockery 
and  her  father's  collections,  could  conceive  that 
these  objects,  to  her  visitor's  perception  even 
more  strongly  than  to  her  own,  measured  the 
length  of  the  swing  from  Poynton  and  Ricks ; 
she  was  aware  too  that  her  high  standards  figured 
vividly  enough  even  to  Owen's  simplicity  to 
make  him  reflect  that  West  Kensington  was  a 
tremendous  fall.  If  she  had  fallen  it  was  because 
she  had  acted  for  him.  She  was  all  the  more 
content  he  should  thus  see  she  had  acted,  as  the 
cost  of  it,  in  his  eyes,  was  none  of  her  own  show- 
ing. "What  seems  to  have  happened,"  he  ex- 
claimed, "  is  that  you  Ve  had  a  row  with  her  and 
yet  not  moved  her !  " 

Fleda  considered  a  moment ;  she  was  full  of 
the  impression  that,  notwithstanding  her  scant 


1 88  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

help,  he  saw  his  way  clearer  than  he  had  seen  it 
at  Ricks.  He  might  mean  many  things  ;  and 
what  if  the  many  should  mean  in  their  turn  only 
one  ?  "  The  difficulty  is,  you  understand,  that 
she  does  n't  really  see  into  your  situation."  She 
hesitated.  "  She  does  n't  comprehend  why  your 
marriage  hasn't  yet  taken  place." 

Owen  stared.  "Why,  for  the  reason  I  told 
you :  that  Mona  won't  take  another  step  till 
mother  has  given  full  satisfaction.  Everything 
must  be  there.  You  see,  everything  was  there 
the  day  of  that  fatal  visit." 

"  Yes,  that 's  what  I  understood  from  you  at 
Ricks,"  said  Fleda ;  "  but  I  have  n't  repeated  it 
to  your  mother."  She  had  hated,  at  Ricks,  to 
talk  with  him  about  Mona,  but  now  that  scruple 
was  swept  away.  If  he  could  speak  of  Mona's 
visit  as  fatal,  she  need  at  least  not  pretend  not  to 
notice  it.  It  made  all  the  difference  that  she  had 
tried  to  assist  him  and  had  failed  :  to  give  him 
any  faith  in  her  service  she  must  give  him  all  her 
reasons  but  one.  She  must  give  him,  in  other 
words,  with  a  corresponding  omission,  all  Mrs. 
Gereth's.  "  You  can  easily  see  that,  as  she  dis- 
likes your  marriage,  anything  that  may  seem  to 
make  it  less  certain  works  in  her  favor.  Without 
my  telling  her,  she  has  suspicions  and  views  that 
are  simply  suggested  by  your  delay.  Therefore 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  189 

it  did  n't  seem  to  me  right  to  make  them  worse. 
By  holding  off  long  enough,  she  thinks  she  may 
put  an  end  to  your  engagement.  If  Mona  's  wait- 
ing, she  believes  she  may  at  last  tire  Mona  out." 
That,  in  all  conscience,  Fleda  felt  was  lucid 
enough. 

So  the  young  man,  following  her  attentively, 
appeared  equally  to  feel.  "  So  far  as  that  goes," 
he  promptly  declared,  "she  has  at  last  tired 
Mona  out."  He  uttered  the.  words  with  a  strange 
approach  to  hilarity. 

Fleda' s  surprise  at  this  aberration  left  her  a 
moment  looking  at  him.  "  Do  you  mean  your 
marriage  is  off  ?  " 

Owen  answered  with  a  kind  of  gay  despair. 
"  God  knows,  Miss  Vetch,  where  or  when  or 
what  my  marriage  is !  If  it  is  n't  '  off,'  it  cer- 
tainly, at  the  point  things  have  reached,  is  n't  on. 
I  have  n't  seen  Mona  for  ten  days,  and  for  a  week 
I  haven't  heard  from  her.  She  used  to  write 
me  every  week,  don't  you  know  ?  She  won't 
budge  from  Waterbath,  and  I  haven't  budged 
from  town."  Then  he  suddenly  broke  out :  "  If 
she  does  chuck  me,  will  mother  come  round  ?  " 

Fleda,  at  this,  felt  that  her  heroism  had  come 
to  its  real  test — felt  that  in  telling  him  the 
truth  she  should  effectively  raise  a  hand  to  push 
his  impediment  out  of  the  way.  Was  the  know- 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

ledge  that  such  a  motion  would  probably  dispose 
forever  of  Mona  capable  of  yielding  to  the  con- 
ception of  still  giving  her  every  chance  she  was 
entitled  to  ?  That  conception  was  heroic,  but  at 
the  same  moment  it  reminded  Fleda  of  the  place 
it  had  held  in  her  plan,  she  was  also  reminded  of 
the  not  less  urgent  claim  of  the  truth.  Ah,  the 
truth  —  there  was  a  limit  to  the  impunity  with 
which  one  could  juggle  with  it!  Wasn't  what 
she  had  most  to  remember  the  fact  that  Owen 
had  a  right  to  his  property  and  that  he  had  also 
her  vow  to  stand  by  him  in  the  effort  to  recover 
it  ?  How  did  she  stand  by  him  if  she  hid  from 
him  the  single  way  to  recover  it  of  which  she 
was  quite  sure  ?  For  an  instant  that  seemed  to 
her  the  fullest  of  her  life  she  debated.  "  Yes," 
she  said  at  last,  "  if  your  marriage  is  really  aban- 
doned, she  will  give  up  everything  she  has 
taken." 

"  That 's  just  what  makes  Mona  hesitate  ! " 
Owen  honestly  exclaimed.  "  I  mean  the  idea 
that  I  shall  get  back  the  things  only  if  she  gives 
me  up." 

Fleda  thought  an  instant.  "  You  mean  makes 
her  hesitate  to  keep  you  —  not  hesitate  to  re- 
nounce you  ? " 

Owen  looked  a  trifle  bewildered.  "  She 
does  n't  see  the  use  of  hanging  on,  as  I  have  n't 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  I gi 

even  yet  put  the  matter  into  legal  hands.  She  's 
awfully  keen  about  that,  and  awfully  disgusted 
that  I  don't.  She  says  it's  the  only  real  way, 
and  she  thinks  I'm  afraid  to  take  it.  She  has 
given  me  time  and  then  has  given  me  again  more. 
She  says  I  give  Mummy  too  much.  She  says 
I'm  a  muff  to  go  pottering  on.  That 's  why 
she 's  drawing  off  so  hard,  don't  you  see  ? " 

"  I  don't  see  very  clearly.  Of  course  you 
must  give  her  what  you  offered  her  ;  of  course 
you  must  keep  your  word.  There  must  be  no 
mistake  about  that  I  "  the  gM  declared. 

Owen's  bewilderment  visibly  increased.  "You 
think,  then,  as  she  does,  that  I  must  send  down 
the  police  ? " 

The  mixture  of  reluctance  and  dependence  in 
this  made  her  feel  how  much  she  was  failing  him. 
She  had  the  sense  of  "chucking"  him  too. 
"  No,  no,  not  yet ! "  she  said,  though  she  had 
really  no  other  and  no  better  course  to  prescribe. 
"  Does  n't  it  occur  to  you/'  she  asked  in  a  mo- 
ment, "that  if  Mona  is,  as  you  say,  drawing 
away,  she  may  have,  in  doing  so,  a  very  high  mo- 
tive ?  She  knows  the  immense  value  of  all  the 
objects  detained  by  your  mother,  and  to  restore 
the  spoils  of  Poynton  she  is  ready  —  is  that  it ! 
—  to  make  a  sacrifice.  The  sacrifice  is  that  of 
an  engagement  she  had  entered  upon  with  joy." 


1 92  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

Owen  had  been  blank  a  moment  before,  but 
he  followed  this  argument  with  success  —  a  suc- 
ess  so  immediate  that  it  enabled  him  to  produce 
with  decision  :  "  Ah,  she 's  not  that  sort !  She 
wants  them  herself,"  he  added ;  "  she  wants  to 
feel  they  're  hers ;  she  does  n't  care  whether  I 
have  them  or  not !  And  if  she  can't  get  them 
she  does  n't  want  me.  If  she  can't  get  them  she 
does  n't  want  anything  at  all." 

This  was  categoric ;  Fleda  drank  it  in.  "  She 
takes  such  an  interest  in  them  ? " 

"  So  it  appears."     * 

"  So  much  that  they  're  all,  and  that  she 
can  let  everything  else  absolutely  depend  upon 
them  ? " 

Owen  weighed  her  question  as  if  he  felt  the 
responsibility  of  his  answer.  But  that  answer 
came  in  a  moment,  and,  as  Fleda  could  see,  out 
of  a  wealth  of  memory.  "  She  never  wanted 
them  particularly  till  they  seemed  to  be  in  dan- 
ger. Now  she  has  an  idea  about  them  ;  and 
when  she  gets  hold  of  an  idea  —  Oh  dear  me  ! " 
He  broke  off,  pausing  and  looking  away  as  with 
a  sense  of  the  futility  of  expression  :  it  was  the 
first  time  Fleda  had  ever  heard  him  explain  a 
matter  so  pointedly  or  embark  at  all  on  a  gen- 
eralization. It  was  striking,  it  was  touching  to 
her,  as  he  faltered,  that  he  appeared  but  half 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  193 

capable  of  floating  his  generalization  to  the  end. 
The  girl,  however,  was  so  far  competent  to  fill  up 
his  blank  as  that  she  had  divined,  on  the  occasion 
of  Mona's  visit  to  Poynton,  what  would  happen  in 
the  event  of  the  accident  at  which  he  glanced. 
She  had  there  with  her  own  eyes  seen  Owen's 
betrothed  get  hold  of  an  idea.  "I  say,  you 
know,  do  give  me  some  tea ! "  he  went  on  irre- 
levantly and  familiarly. 

Her  profuse  preparations  had  all  this  time  had 
no  sequel,  and,  with  a  laugh  that  she  felt  to  be 
awkward,  she  hastily  complied  with  his  request. 
"  It 's  sure  to  be  horrid,"  she  said ;  "  we  don't 
have  at  all  good  things."  She  offered  him  also 
bread  and  butter,  of  which  he  partook,  holding 
his  cup  and  saucer  in  his  other  hand  and  moving 
slowly  about  the  room.  She  poured  herself  a 
cup,  but  not  to  take  it ;  after  which,  without 
wanting  it,  she  began  to  eat  a  small  stale  biscuit. 
She  was  struck  with  the  extinction  of  the  unwill- 
ingness she  had  felt  at  Ricks  to  contribute  to  the 
bandying  between  them  of  poor  Mona's  name; 
and  under  this  influence  she  presently  resumed  : 
"  Am  I  to  understand  that  she  engaged  herself  to 
marry  you  without  caring  for  you  ?  " 

Owen  looked  out  into  Raphael  Road.  "  She 
did  care  for  me  awfully.  But  she  can't  stand  the 
strain." 


194  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

"The  strain  of  what?" 

"  Why,  of  the  whole  wretched  thing." 

"The  whole  thing  has  indeed  been  wretched, 
and  I  can  easily  conceive  its  effect  upon  her," 
Fleda  said. 

Her  visitor  turned  sharp  round.  "You  can  ?" 
There  was  a  light  in  his  strong  stare.  "You 
can  understand  it 's  spoiling  her  temper  and 
making  her  come  down  on  me  ?  She  behaves  as 
if  I  were  of  no  use  to  her  at  all !  " 

Fleda  hesitated.  "  She  's  rankling  under  the 
sense  of  her  wrong." 

"  Well,  was  it  /,  pray,  who  perpetrated  the 
wrong  ?  Ain't  I  doing  what  I  can  to  get  the 
thing  arranged  ? " 

The  ring  of  his  question  made  his  anger  at 
Mona  almost  resemble  for  a  minute  an  anger  at 
Fleda ;  and  this  resemblance  in  turn  caused  our 
young  lady  to  observe  how  handsome  he  looked 
when  he  spoke,  for  the  first  time  in  her  hearing, 
with  that  degree  of  heat,  and  used,  also  for  the 
first  time,  such  a  term  as  "  perpetrated."  In  ad- 
dition, his  challenge  rendered  still  more  vivid  to 
her  the  mere  flimsiness  of  her  own  aid.  "  Yes, 
you  Ve  been  perfect,"  she  said.  "  You  Ve  had  a 
most  difficult  part.  You  Ve  had  to  show  tact 
and  patience,  as  well  as  firmness,  with  your  mo- 
ther, and  you  Ve  strikingly  shown  them.  It 's  I 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  195 

who,   quite   unintentionally,  have  deceived  you. 
I  have  n't  helped  you  at  all  to  your  remedy." 

"  Well,  you  would  n't  at  all  events  have  ceased 
to  like  me,  would  you  ? "  Owen  demanded.  It 
evidently  mattered  to  him  to  know  if  she  really 
justified  Mona.  "  I  mean  of  course  if  you  had 
liked  me  —  liked  me  as  she  liked  me,"  he  ex- 
plained. 

Fleda  looked  this  inquiry  in  the  face  only  long 
enough  to  recognize  that,  in  her  embarrassment, 
she  must  take  instant  refuge  in  a  superior  one. 
"  I  can  answer  that  better  if  I  know  how  kind  to 
her  you  've  been.  Have  you  been  kind  to  her  ?  " 
she  asked  as  simply  as  she  could. 

"  Why,  rather,  Miss  Vetch  !  "  Owen  declared. 
"  I  've  done  every  blessed  thing  she  wished.  I 
rushed  down  to  Ricks,  as  you  saw,  with  fire  and 
sword,  and  the  day  after  that  I  went  to  see  her 
at  Waterbath."  At  this  point  he  checked  him- 
self, though  it  was  just  the  point  at  which  her 
interest  deepened.  A  different  look  had  come 
into  his  face  as  he  put  down  his  empty  teacup. 
"  But  why  should  I  tell  you  such  things,  for  any 
good  it  does  me  ?  I  gather  that  you  've  no  sug- 
gestion to  make  me  now  except  that  I  shall  re- 
quest my  solicitor  to  act.  Shall  I  request  him 
to  act  ? " 

Fleda  scarcely   heard   his   words ;    something 


IQ6  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

new  had  suddenly  come  into  her  mind.  "  When 
you  went  to  Waterbath  after  seeing  me,"  she 
asked,  "  did  you  tell  her  all  about  that  ? " 

Owen  looked  conscious.     "  All  about  it  ? " 

"  That  you  had  had  a  long  talk  with  me,  with- 
out seeing  your  mother  at  all  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  I  told  her  exactly,  and  that  you  had 
been  most  awfully  kind,  and  that  I  had  placed 
the  whole  thing  in  your  hands." 

Fleda  was  silent  a  moment.  "  Perhaps  that 
displeased  her,"  she  at  last  suggested. 

"  It  displeased  her  fearfully,"  said  Owen,  look- 
ing very  queer. 

"  Fearfully  ?  "  broke  from  the  girl.  Somehow, 
at  the  word,  she  was  startled. 

"  She  wanted  to  know  what  right  you  had  to 
meddle.  She  said  you  were  not  honest." 

"  Oh  !  "  Fleda  cried,  with  a  long  wail.  Then 
she  controlled  herself.  "  I  see." 

"  She  abused  you,  and  I  defended  you.  She 
denounced  you  —  " 

She  checked  him  with  a  gesture.  "  Don't  tell 
me  what  she  did  !  "  She  had  colored  up  to  her 
eyes,  where,  as  with  the  effect  of  a  blow  in  the 
face,  she  quickly  felt  the  tears  gathering.  It  was 
a  sudden  drop  in  her  great  flight,  a  shock  to  her 
attempt  to  watch  over  what  Mona  was  entitled 
to.  While  she  had  been  straining  her  very  soul 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  197 

in  this  attempt,  the  object  of  her  magnanimity 
had  been  pronouncing  her  "not  honest."  She 
took  it  all  in,  however,  and  after  an  instant  was 
able  to  speak  with  a  smile.  She  would  not  have 
been  surprised  to  learn,  indeed,  that  her  smile 
was  strange.  "  You  had  said  a  while  ago  that 
your  mother  and  I  quarreled  about  you.  It 's 
much  more  true  that  you  and  Mona  have  quar- 
reled about  me." 

Owen  hesitated,  but  at  last  he  brought  it  out. 
"  What  I  mean  to  say  is,  don't  you  know,  that 
Mona,  if  you  don't  mind  my  saying  so,  has  taken 
it  into  her  head  to  be  jealous." 

"  I  see,"  said  Fleda.  "  Well,  I  dare  say  our 
conferences  have  looked  very  odd." 

"They've  looked  very  beautiful,  and  they've 
been  very  beautiful.  Oh,  I  Ve  told  her  the  sort 
you  are  !  "  the  young  man  pursued. 

"  That  of  course  has  n't  made  her  love  me 
better." 

"  No,  nor  love  me,"  said  Owen.  "  Of  course, 
you  know,  she  says  she  loves  me." 

"  And  do  you  say  you  love  her  ? " 

"  I  say  nothing  else  —  I  say  it  all  the  while.  I 
said  it  the  other  day  a  dozen  times."  Fleda  made 
no  immediate  rejoinder  to  this,  and  before  she 
could  choose  one  he  repeated  his  question  of  a  mo- 
ment before.  "Am  I  to  tell  my  solicitor  to  act  ?  " 


198  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

She  had  at  that  moment  turned  away  from  this 
solution,  precisely  because  she  saw  in  it  the  great 
chance  of  her  secret.  If  she  should  determine 
him  to  adopt  it  she  might  put  out  her  hand  and 
take  him.  It  would  shut  in  Mrs.  Gereth's  face 
the  open  door  of  surrender  :  she  would  flare  up 
and  fight,  flying  the  flag  of  a  passionate,  an 
heroic  defense.  The  case  would  obviously  go 
against  her,  but  the  proceedings  would  last 
longer  than  Mona's  patience  or  Owen's  propriety. 
With  a  formal  rupture  he  would  be  at  large ;  and 
she  had  only  to  tighten  her  fingers  round  the 
string  that  would  raise  the  curtain  on  that  scene. 
"  You  tell  me  you  '  say  '  you  love  her,  but  is  there 
nothing  more  in  it  than  your  saying  so  ?  You 
would  n't  say  so,  would  you,  if  it 's  not  true  ? 
What  in  the  world  has  become,  in  so  short  a  time/ 
of  the  affection  that  led  to  your  engagement  ?  " 

"The  deuce  knows  what  has  become  of  it, 
Miss  Vetch ! "  Owen  cried.  "  It  seemed  all  to 
go  to  pot  as  this  horrid  struggle  came  on."  He 
was  close  to  her  now,  and,  with  his  face  lighted 
again  by  the  relief  of  it,  he  looked  all  his  helpless 
history  into  her  eyes.  "  As  I  saw  you  and 
noticed  you  more,  as  I  knew  you  better  and 
better,  I  felt  less  and  less  —  I  could  n't  help  it  - 
about  anything  or  any  one  else.  I  wished  I  had 
known  you  sooner  —  I  knew  I  should  have  liked 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  199 

you  better  than  any  one  in  the  world.  But  it 
was  n't  you  who  made  the  difference,"  he  eagerly 
continued,  "and  I  was  awfully  determined  to  stick 
to  Mona  to  the  death.  It  was  she  herself  who 
made  it,  upon  my  soul,  by  the  state  she  got 
into,  the  way  she  sulked,  the  way  she  took 
things,  and  the  way  she  let  me  have  it !  She 
destroyed  our  prospects  and  our  happiness,  upon 
my  honor.  She  made  just  the  same  smash  of 
them  as  if  she  had  kicked  over  that  tea-table. 
She  wanted  to  know  all  the  while  what  was 
passing  between  us,  between  you  and  me  ;  and 
she  would  n't  take  my  solemn  assurance  that 
nothing  was  passing  but  what  might  have  directly 
passed  between  me  and  old  Mummy.  She  said  a 
pretty  girl  like  you  was  a  nice  old  Mummy  for 
me,  and,  if  you  '11  believe  it,  she  never  called  you 
anything  else  but  that.  I  '11  be  hanged  if  I 
have  n't  been  good,  have  n't  I  ?  I  have  n't 
breathed  a  breath  of  any  sort  to  you,  have  I  ? 
You'd  have  been  down  on  me  hard  if  I  had, 
would  n't  you  ?  You  're  down  on  me  pretty  hard 
as  it  is,  I  think,  are  n't  you  ?  But  I  don't  care 
what  you  say  now,  or  what  Mona  says,  either,  or 
a  single  rap  what  any  one  says :  she  has  given  me 
at  last,  by  her  confounded  behavior,  a  right  to 
speak  out,  to  utter  the  way  I  feel  about  it.  The 
way  I  feel  about  it,  don't  you  know,  is  that  it  had 


2OO  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

all  better  come  to  an  end.  You  ask  me  if  I  don't 
love  her,  and  I  suppose  it 's  natural  enough  you 
should.  But  you  ask  it  at  the  very  moment  I  'm 
half  mad  to  say  to  you  that  there  's  only  one  per- 
son on  the  whole  earth  I  really  love,  and  that 
that  person  — "  Here  Owen  pulled  up  short, 
and  Fleda  wondered  if  it  was  from  the  effect  of 
his  perceiving,  through  the  closed  door,  the  sound 
of  steps  and  voices  on  the  landing  of  the  stairs. 
She  had  caught  this  sound  herself  with  surprise 
and  a  vague  uneasiness  :  it  was  not  an  hour  at 
which  her  father  ever  came  in,  and  there  was  no 
present  reason  why  she  should  have  a  visitor. 
She  had  a  fear,  which  after  a  few  seconds  deep- 
ened :  a  visitor  was  at  hand  ;  the  visitor  would 
be  simply  Mrs.  Gereth.  That  lady  wished  for  a 
near  view  of  the  consequence  of  her  note  to 
Owen.  Fleda  straightened  herself  with  the  in- 
stant thought  that  if  this  was  what  Mrs.  Gereth 
desired  Mrs.  Gereth  should  have  it  in  a  form  not 
to  be  mistaken.  Owen's  pause  was  the  matter 
of  a  moment,  but  during  that  moment  our  young 
couple  stood  with  their  eyes  holding  each  other's 
eyes  and  their  ears  catching  the  suggestion,  still 
through  the  door,  of  a  murmured  conference  in 
the  hall.  Fleda  had  begun  to  make  the  move- 
ment to  cut  it  short  when  Owen  stopped  her  with 
a  grasp  of  her  arm.  "You're  surely  able  to 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  2OI 

guess,"  he  said,  with  his  voice  dropped  and  her 
arm  pressed  as  she  had  never  known  such  a  drop 
or  such  a  pressure  — "  you  're  surely  able  to 
guess  the  one  person  on  earth  I  love  ? " 

The  handle  of  the  door  turned,  and  Fleda  had 
only  time  to  jerk  at  him  :  "  Your  mother  !  " 

The  door  opened,  and  the  smutty  maid,  edging 
in,  announced  "  Mrs.  Brigstock  ! " 


XV 

MRS.  Brigstock,  in  the  doorway,  stood  looking 
from  one  of  the  occupants  of  the  room  to  the 
other ;  then  they  saw  her  eyes  attach  themselves 
to  a  small  object  that  had  lain  hitherto  unnoticed 
on  the  carpet.  This  was  the  biscuit  of  which,  on 
giving  Owen  his  tea,  Fleda  had  taken  a  perfunc- 
tory nibble  :  she  had  immediately  laid  it  on  the 
table,  and  that  subsequently,  in  some  precipitate 
movement,  she  should  have  brushed  it  off  was 
doubtless  a  sign  of  the  agitation  that  possessed 
her.  For  Mrs.  Brigstock  there  was  apparently 
more  in  it  than  met  the  eye.  Owen  at  any  rate 
picked  it  up,  and  Fleda  felt  as  if  he  were  remov- 
ing the  traces  of  some  scene  that  the  newspapers 
would  have  characterized  as  lively.  Mrs.  Brig- 
stock  clearly  took  in  also  the  sprawling  tea-things 
and  the  mark  as  of  high  water  in  the  full  faces  of 
her  young  friends.  These  elements  made  the 
little  place  a  vivid  picture  of  intimacy.  A  minute 
was  filled  by  Fleda' s  relief  at  finding  her  visitor 
not  to  be  Mrs.  Gereth,  and  a  longer  space  by  the 
ensuing  sense  of  what  was  really  more  compro- 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  2O3 

mising  in  the  actual  apparition.  It  dimly  occurred 
to  her  that  the  lady  of  Ricks  had  also  written  to 
Waterbath.  Not  only  had  Mrs.  Brigstock  never 
paid  her  a  call,  but  Fleda  would  have  been  unable 
to  figure  her  so  employed.  A  year  before  the 
girl  had  spent  a  day  under  her  roof,  but  never 
feeling  that  Mrs.  Brigstock  regarded  this  as  con- 
stituting a  bond.  She  had  never  stayed  in  any 
house  but  Poynton  where  the  imagination  of  a 
bond,  one  way  or  the  other,  prevailed.  After  the 
first  astonishment  she  dashed  gayly  at  her  guest, 
emphasizing  her  welcome  and  wondering  how  her 
whereabouts  had  become  known  at  Waterbath. 
Had  not  Mrs.  Brigstock  quitted  that  residence 
for  the  very  purpose  of  laying  her  hand  on  the 
associate  of  Mrs.  Gereth's  misconduct  ?  The 
spirit  in  which  this  hand  was  to  be  laid  our  young 
lady  was  yet  to  .ascertain ;  but  she  was  a  person 
who  could  think  ten  thoughts  at  once  —  a  circum- 
stance which,  even  putting  her  present  plight  at 
its  worst,  gave  her  a  great  advantage  over  a  per- 
son who  required  easy  conditions  for  dealing 
even  with  one.  The  very  vibration  of  the  air, 
however,  told  her  that  whatever  Mrs.  Brigstock' s 
spirit  might  originally  have  been,  it  had  been 
sharply  affected  by  the  sight  of  Owen.  He  was 
essentially  a  surprise :  she  had  reckoned  with 
everything  that  concerned  him  but  his  presence. 


2O4  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

With  that,  in  awkward  silence,  she  was  reckoning 
now,  as  Fleda  could  see,  while  she  effected  with 
friendly  aid  an  embarrassed  transit  to  the  sofa. 
Owen  would  be  useless,  would  be  deplorable : 
that  aspect  of  the  case  Fleda  had  taken  in  as 
well.  Another  aspect  was  that  he  would  admire 
her,  adore  her,  exactly  in  proportion  as  she  her- 
self should  rise  gracefully  superior.  Fleda  felt 
for  the  first  time  free  to  let  herself  "  go,"  as  Mrs. 
Gereth  had  said,  and  she  was  full  of  the  sense 
that  to  "  go  "  meant  now  to  aim  straight  at  the 
effect  of  moving  Owen  to  rapture  at  her  simpli- 
city and  tact.  It  was  her  impression  that  he  had 
no  positive  dislike  of  Mona's  mother;  but  she 
could  n't  entertain  that  notion  without  a  glimpse 
of  the  implication  that  he  had  a  positive  dislike 
of  Mrs.  Brigstock's  daughter.  Mona's  mother 
declined  tea,  declined  a  better  seat,  declined 
a  cushion,  declined  to  remove  her  boa  :  Fleda 
guessed  that  she  had  not  come  on  purpose  to  be 
dry,  but  that  the  voice  of  the  invaded  room  had 
itself  given  her  the  hint. 

"  I  just  came  on  the  mere  chance,"  she  said. 
"  Mona  found  yesterday,  somewhere,  the  card  of 
invitation  to  your  sister's  marriage  that  you  sent 
us,  or  your  father  sent  us,  some  time  ago.  We 
could  n't  be  present  —  it  was  impossible ;  but  as 
it  had  this  address  on  it  I  said  to  myself  that  I 
might  find  you  here." 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  2O$ 

"  I  'm  very  glad  to  be  at  home,"  Fleda  re- 
sponded. 

"  Yes,  that  does  n't  happen  very  often,  does 
it  ? "  Mrs.  Brigstock  looked  round  afresh  at 
Fleda's  home. 

"Oh,  I  came  back  from  Ricks  last  week.  I 
shall  be  here  now  till  I  don't  know  when.'* 

"We  thought  it  very  likely  you  would  have 
come  back.  We  knew  of  course  of  your  having 
been  at  Ricks.  If  I  did  n't  find  you  I  thought  i 
might  perhaps  find  Mr.  Vetch,"  Mrs.  Brigstock 
went  on. 

"  I  'm  sorry  he 's  out.  He 's  always  out  —  all 
day  long." 

Mrs.  Brigstock's  round  eyes  grew  rounder. 
"All  day  long?" 

"  All  day  long,"  Fleda  smiled. 

"  Leaving  you  quite  to  yourself  ? " 

"  A  good  deal  to  myself,  but  a  little,  to-day,  as 
you  see,  to  Mr.  Gereth,  — "  and  the  girl  looked 
at  Owen  to  draw  him  into  their  sociability.  For 
Mrs.  Brigstock  he  had  immediately  sat  down  ;  but 
the  movement  had  not  corrected  the  sombre  stiff- 
ness taking  possession  of  him  at  the  sight  of  her. 
Before  he  found  a  response  to  the  appeal  ad- 
dressed to  him  Fleda  turned  again  to  her  other 
visitor.  "  Is  there  any  purpose  for  which  you 
would  like  my  father  to  call  on  you  ? " 


206  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

Mrs.  Brigstock  received  this  question  as  if  it 
were  not  to  be  unguardedly  answered ;  upon 
which  Owen  intervened  with  pale  irrelevance  : 
"  I  wrote  to  Mona  this  morning  of  Miss  Vetch's 
being  in  town  ;  but  of  course  the  letter  had  n't 
arrived  when  you  left  home." 

"  No,  it  had  n't  arrived.  I  came  up  for  the  night 
—  I  've  several  matters  to  attend  to."  Then 
looking  with  an  intention  of  fixedness  from  one 
of  her  companions  to  the  other,  "  I  'm  afraid  I  Ve 
interrupted  your  conversation,"  Mrs.  Brigstock 
said.  She  spoke  without  effectual  point,  had  the 
air  of  merely  announcing  the  fact.  Fleda  had 
not  yet  been  confronted  with  the  question  of  the 
sort  of  person  Mrs.  Brigstock  was  ;  she  had  only 
been  confronted  with  the  question  of  the  sort  of 
person  Mrs.  Gereth  scorned  her  for  being.  She 
was  really,  somehow,  no  sort  of  person  at  all,  and 
it  came  home  to  Fleda  that  if  Mrs.  Gereth  could 
see  her  at  this  moment  she  would  scorn  her  more 
than  ever.  She  had  a  face  of  which  it  was  im- 
possible to  say  anything  but  that  it  was  pink,  and 
a  mind  that  it  would  be  possible  to  describe  only 
if  one  had  been  able  to  mark  it  in  a  similar  fash- 
ion. As  nature  had  made  this  organ  neither 
green  nor  blue  nor  yellow,  there  was  nothing  to 
know  it  by:  it  strayed  and  bleated  like  an  un- 
branded  sheep.  Fleda  felt  for  it  at  this  moment 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  2O? 

much  of  the  kindness  of  compassion,  since  Mrs. 
Brigstock  had  brought  it  with  her  to  do  some- 
thing for  her  that  she  regarded  as  delicate.  Fleda 
was  quite  prepared  to  help  it  to  perform,  if  she 
should  be  able  to  gather  what  it  wanted  to  do. 
What  she  gathered,  however,  more  and  more,  was 
that  it  wanted  to  do  something  different  from 
what  it  had  wanted  to  do  in  leaving  Waterbath. 
There  was  still  nothing  to  enlighten  her  more 
specifically  in  the  way  her  visitor  continued  : 
"  You  must  be  very  much  taken  up.  I  believe 
you  quite  espouse  his  dreadful  quarrel." 

Fleda  vaguely  demurred.  "  His  dreadful  quar- 
rel -> " 

"  About  the  contents  of  the  house.  Are  n't 
you  looking  after  them  for  him  ? " 

"  She  knows  how  awfully  kind  you  've  been  to 
me,"  Owen  said.  He  showed  such  discomfiture 
that  he  really  gave  away  their  situation ;  and 
Fleda  found  herself  divided  between  the  hope 
that  he  would  take  leave  and  the  wish  that  he 
should  see  the  whole  of  what  the  occasion  might 
enable  her  to  bring  to  pass  for  him. 

She  explained  to  Mrs.  Brigstock.  "  Mrs. 
Gereth,  at  Ricks,  the  other  day,  asked  me  partic- 
ularly to  see  him  for  her." 

"  And  did  she  ask  you  also  particularly  to  see 
him  here  in  town  ?  "  Mrs.  Brigstock's  hideous 


208  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

bonnet  seemed  to  argue  for  the  unsophisticated 
truth ;  and  it  was  on  Fleda's  lips  to  reply  that 
such  had  indeed  been  Mrs.  Gereth's  request. 
But  she  checked  herself,  and  before  she  could 
say  anything  else  Owen  had  addressed  their 
companion. 

"  I  made  a  point  of  letting  Mona  know  that  I 
should  be  here,  don't  you  see  ?  That 's  exactly 
what  I  wrote  her  this  morning." 

"  She  would  have  had  no  doubt  you  would  be 
here,  if  you  had  a  chance,"  Mrs.  Brigstock  re- 
turned. "If  your  letter  had  arrived  it  might 
have  prepared  me  for  finding  you  here  at  tea.  In 
that  case  I  certainly  would  n't  have  come." 

"  I  'm  glad,  then,  it  did  n't  arrive.  Should  n't 
you  like  him  to  go  ? "  Fleda  asked. 

Mrs.  Brigstock  looked  at  Owen  and  considered : 
nothing  showed  in  her  face  but  that  it  turned  a 
deeper  pink.  " I  should  like  him  to  go  with  me" 
There  was  no  menace  in  her  tone,  but  she 
evidently  knew  what  she  wanted.  As  Owen 
made  no  response  to  this  Fleda  glanced  at  him 
to  invite  him  to  assent ;  then,  for  fear  that  he 
wouldn't,  and  would  thereby  make  his  case  worse, 
she  took  upon  herself  to  declare  that  she  was 
sure  he  would  be  very  glad  to  meet  such  a  wish. 
She  had  no  sooner  spoken  than  she  felt  that  the 
words  had  a  bad  effect  of  intimacy  :  she  had 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  2OQ 

answered  for  him  as  if  she  had  been  his  wife. 
Mrs.  Brigstock  continued  to  regard  him  as  if  she 
had  observed  nothing,  and  she  continued  to  ad- 
dress Fleda :  "  I  've  not  seen  him  for  a  long  time 
—  I  Ve  particular  things  to  say  to  him." 

"  So  have  I  things  to  say  to  you,  Mrs.  Brig- 
stock  !  "  Owen  interjected.  With  this  he  took  up 
his  hat  as  if  for  an  immediate  departure. 

The  other  visitor  meanwhile  turned  to  Fleda. 
"What  is  Mrs.  Gereth  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  Is  that  what  you  came  to  ask  me  ? "  Fleda 
demanded. 

"  That  and  several  other  things." 

"  Then  you  had  much  better  let  Mr.  Gereth  go, 
and  stay  by  yourself  and  make  me  a  pleasant 
visit.  You  can  talk  with  him  when  you  like,  but 
it  is  the  first  time  you  Ve  been  to  see  me." 

This  appeal  had  evidently  a  certain  effect ; 
Mrs.  Brigstock  visibly  wavered.  "  I  can't  talk 
with  him  whenever  I  like,"  she  returned;  "he 
hasn't  been  near  us  since  I  don't  know  when. 
But  there  are  things  that  have  brought  me  here." 

"  They  are  not  things  of  any  importance," 
Owen,  to  Fleda's  surprise,  suddenly  asserted. 
He  had  not  at  first  taken  up  Mrs.  Brigstock's 
expression  of  a  wish  to  carry  him  off :  Fleda 
could  see  that  the  instinct  at  the  bottom  of  this 
was  that  of  standing  by  her,  of  seeming  not  to 


210  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

abandon  her.  But  abruptly,  all  his  soreness 
working  within  him,  it  had  struck  him  that  he 
should  abandon  her  still  more  if  he  should  leave 
her  to  be  dealt  with  by  her  other  visitor.  "  You 
must  allow  me  to  say,  you  know,  Mrs.  Brigstock, 
that  I  don't  think  you  should  come  down  on  Miss 
Vetch  about  anything.  It 's  very  good  of  her  to 
take  the  smallest  interest  in  us  and  our  horrid 
little  squabble.  If  you  want  to  talk  about  it, 
talk  about  it  with  me"  He  was  flushed  with  the 
idea  of  protecting  Fleda,  of  exhibiting  his  consid- 
eration for  her.  "I  don't  like  your  cross-ques- 
tioning her,  don't  you  see  ?  She 's  as  straight  as 
a  die :  7'11  tell  you  all  about  her ! "  he  declared 
with  an  excited  laugh.  "Please  come  off  with 
me  and  let  her  alone." 

Mrs.  Brigstock,  at  this,  became  vivid  at  once ; 
Fleda  thought  she  looked  most  peculiar.  She 
stood  straight  up,  with  a  queer  distention  of  her 
whole  person  and  of  everything  in  her  face  but 
her  mouth,  which  she  gathered  into  a  small,  tight 
orifice.  Fleda  was  painfully  divided ;  her  joy 
was  deep  within,  but  it  was  more  relevant  to  the 
situation  that  she  should  not  appear  to  associate 
herself  with  the  tone  of  familiarity  in  which 
Owen  addressed  a  lady  who  had  been,  and  was 
perhaps  still,  about  to  become  his  mother-m-law. 
She  laid  on  Mrs.  Brigstock's  arm  a  repressive 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  211 

hand.  Mrs.  Brigstock,  however,  had  already 
exclaimed  on  her  having  so  wonderful  a  defender. 
"He  speaks,  upon  my  word,  as  if  I  had  come 
here  to  be  rude  to  you  !  "  . 

At  this,  grasping  her  hard,  Fleda  laughed; 
then  she  achieved  the  exploit  of  delicately  kiss- 
ing her.  "I'm  not  in  the  least  afraid  to  be  alone 
with  you,  or  of  your  tearing  me  to  pieces.  I  '11 
answer  any  question  that  you  can  possibly  dream 
of  putting  to  me.'* 

"  I  'm  the  proper  person  to  answer  Mrs.  Brig- 
stock's  questions,"  Owen  broke  in  again,  "and 
I  'm  not  a  bit  less  ready  to  meet  them  than  you 
are."  He  was  firmer  than  she  had  ever  seen 
him :  it  was  as  if  she  had  not  known  he  could 
be  so  firm. 

"  But  she  '11  only  have  been  here  a  few  minutes. 
What  sort  of  a  visit  is  that  ? "  Fleda  cried. 

"It  has  lasted  long  enough  for  my  purpose. 
There  was  something  I  wanted  to  know,  but  I 
think  I  know  it  now." 

"Anything  you  don't  know  I  dare  say  I  can 
tell  you ! "  Owen  observed  as  he  impatiently 
smoothed  his  hat  with  the  cuff  of  his  coat. 

Fleda  by  this  time  desired  immensely  to  keep 
his  companion,  but  she  saw  she  could  do  so  only 
at  the  cost  of  provoking  on  his  part  a  further 
exhibition  of  the  sheltering  attitude,  which  he 


212  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

exaggerated  precisely  because  it  was  the  first 
thing,  since  he  had  begun  to  "  like  "  her,  that  he 
had  been  able  frankly  to  do  for  her.  It  was  not 
in  her  interest  that  Mrs.  Brigstock  should  be 
more  struck  than  she  already  was  with  that 
benevolence.  "There  maybe  things  you  know 
that  I  don't,"  she  presently  said  to  her,  with  a 
smile.  "But  I've  a  sort  of  sense  that  you're 
laboring  under  some  great  mistake." 

Mrs.  Brigstock,  at  this,  looked  into  her  eyes 
more  deeply  and  yearningly  than  she  had  sup- 
posed Mrs.  Brigstock  could  look ;  it  was  the 
flicker  of  a  certain  willingness  to  give  her  a 
chance.  Owen,  however,  quickly  spoiled  every- 
thing. "  Nothing  is  more  probable  than  that 
Mrs.  Brigstock  is  doing  what  you  say ;  but  there 's 
no  one  in  the  world  to  whom  you  owe  an  expla- 
nation. I  may  owe  somebody  one  —  I  dare  say 
I  do  ;  but  not  you,  no  !  " 

"But  what  if  there  's  one  that  it 's  no  difficulty 
at  all  for  me  to  give  ? "  Fleda  inquired.  "  I  'm 
sure  that 's  the  only  one  Mrs.  Brigstock  came  to 
ask,  if  she  came  to  ask  any  at  all." 

Again  the  good  lady  looked  hard  at  her  young 
hostess.  "  I  came,  I  believe,  Fleda,  just,  you 
know,  to  plead  with  you." 

Fleda,  with  a  bright  face,  hesitated  a  moment. 
"  As  if  I  were  one  of  those  bad  women  in  a  play  ? " 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  213 

The  remark  was  disastrous.  Mrs.  Brigstock,  on 
whom  her  brightness  was  lost,  evidently  thought 
it  singularly  free.  She  turned  away,  as  from  a 
presence  that  had  really  denned  itself  as  objec- 
tionable, and  Fleda  had  a  vain  sense  that  her  good 
humor,  in  which  there  was  an  idea,  was  taken  for 
impertinence,  or  at  least  for  levity.  Her  allusion 
was  improper,  even  if  she  herself  was  n't ;  Mrs. 
Brigstock's  emotion  simplified :  it  came  to  the 
same  thing.  "  I  'm  quite  ready,"  that  lady  said 
to  Owen  rather  mildly  and  woundedly.  "  I  do 
want  to  speak  to  you  very  much." 

"  I  'm  completely  at  your  service."  Owen  held 
out  his  hand  to  Fleda.  "  Good-bye,  Miss  Vetch. 
I  hope  to  see  you  again  to-morrow."  He  opened 
the  door  for  Mrs.  Brigstock,  who  passed  before  the 
girl  with  an  oblique,  averted  salutation.  Owen 
and  Fleda,  while  he  stood  at  the  door,  then  faced 
each  other  darkly  and  without  speaking.  Their 
eyes  met  once  more  for  a  long  moment,  and  she 
was  conscious  there  was  something  in  hers  that 
the  darkness  didn't  quench,  that  he  had  never 
seen  before  and  that  he  was  perhaps  never  to  see 
again.  He  stayed  long  enough  to  take  it  —  to 
take  it  with  a  sombre  stare  that  just  showed  the 
dawn  of  wonder ;  then  he  followed  Mrs.  Brigstock 
out  of  the  house. 


XVI 

HE  had  uttered  the  hope  that  he  should  see 
her  the  next  day,  but  Fleda  could  easily  reflect 
that  he  would  n't  see  her  if  she  were  not  there  to 
be  seen.  If  there  was  a  thing  in  the  world  she 
desired  at  that  moment,  it  was  that  the  next  day 
should  have  no  point  of  resemblance  with  the  day 
that  had  just  elapsed.  She  accordingly  aspired 
to  an  absence :  she  would  go  immediately  down 
to  Maggie.  She  ran  out  that  evening  and  tele- 
graphed to  her  sister,  and  in  the  morning  she 
quitted  London  by  an  early  train.  She  required 
for  this  step  no  reason  but  the  sense  of  necessity. 
It  was  a  strong  personal  need;  she  wished  to 
interpose  something,  and  there  was  nothing  she 
could  interpose  but  distance,  but  time.  If  Mrs. 
Brigstock  had  to  deal  with  Owen  she  would  allow 
Mrs.  Brigstock  the  chance.  '  To  be  there,  to  be 
in  the  midst  of  it,  was  the  reverse  of  what  she 
craved :  she  had  already  been  more  in  the  midst 
of  it  than  had  ever  entered  into  her  plan.  At 
any  rate  she  had  renounced  her  plan ;  she  had  no 
plan  now  but  the  plan  of  separation.  This  was 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  21$ 

to  abandon  Owen,  to  give  up  the  fine  office  of 
helping  him  back  to  his  own  ;  but  when  she  had 
undertaken  that  office  she  had  not  foreseen  that 
Mrs.  Gereth  would  defeat  it  by  a  manoeuvre  so 
simple.  The  scene  at  her  father's  rooms  had 
extinguished  all  offices,  and  the  scene  at  her 
father's  rooms  was  of  Mrs.  Gereth' s  producing. 
Owen,  at  all  events,  must  now  act  for  himself : 
he  had  obligations  to  meet,  he  had  satisfactions 
to  give,  and  Fleda  fairly  ached  with  the  wish  that 
he  might  be  equal  to  them.  She  never  knew  the 
extent  of  her  tenderness  for  him  till  she  became 
conscious  of  the  present  force  of  her  desire  that 
he  should  be  superior,  be  perhaps  even  sublime. 
She  obscurely  made  out  that  superiority,  that 
sublimity,  might  n't  after  all  be  fatal.  She  closed 
her  eyes  and  lived  for  a  day  or  two  in  the  mere 
beauty  of  confidence.  It  was  with  her  on  the 
short  journey ;  it  was  with  her  at  Maggie's  ;  it 
glorified  the  mean  little  house  in  the  stupid  little 
town.  Owen  had  grown  larger  to  her  :  he  would 
do,  like  a  man,  whatever  he  should  have  to  do. 
He  would  n't  be  weak  —  not  as  she  was  :  she  her- 
self was  weak  exceedingly. 

Arranging  her  few  possessions  in  Maggie's 
fewer  receptacles,  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
bright  side  of  the  fact  that  her  old  things  were 
not  such  a  problem  as  Mrs.  Gereth's.  Picking 


2l6  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

her  way  with  Maggie  through  the  local  puddles, 
diving  with  her  into  smelly  cottages  and  support- 
ing her,  at  smellier  shops,  in  firmness  over  the 
weight  of  joints  and  the  taste  of  cheese,  it  was 
still  her  own  secret  that  was  universally  inter- 
woven. In  the  puddles,  the  cottages,  the  shops 
she  was  comfortably  alone  with  it ;  that  comfort 
prevailed  even  while,  at  the  evening  meal,  her 
brother-in-law  invited  her  attention  to  a  diagram, 
drawn  with  a  fork  on  too  soiled  a  tablecloth,  of 
the  scandalous  drains  of  the  Convalescent  Home. 
To  be  alone  with  it  she  had  come  away  from 
Ricks ;  and  now  she  knew  that  to  be  alone  with 
it  she  had  come  away  from  London.  This  advan- 
tage was  of  course  menaced,  but  not  immediately 
destroyed,  by  the  arrival,  on  the  second  day,  of 
the  note  she  had  been  sure  she  should  receive 
from  Owen.  He  had  gone  to  West  Kensington 
and  found  her  flown,  but  he  had  got  her  address 
from  the  little  maid  and  then  hurried  to  a  club 
and  written  to  her.  "Why  have  you  left  me  just 
when  I  want  you  most  ? "  he  demanded.  The 
next  words,  it  was  true,  were  more  reassuring  on 
the  question  of  his  steadiness.  "  I  don't  know 
what  your  reason  may  be,"  they  went  on,  "nor 
why  you  've  not  left  a  line  for  me  ;  but  I  don't 
think  you  can  feel  that  I  did  anything  yesterday 
that  it  was  n't  right  for  me  to  do.  As  regards 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  21  *] 

Mrs.  Brigstock,  certainly,  I  just  felt  what  was 
right  and  I  did  it.  She  had  no  business  whatever 
to  attack  you  that  way,  and  I  should  have  been 
ashamed  if  I  had  left  her  there  to  worry  you.  I 
won't  have  you  worried  by  any  one  ;  no  one  shall 
be  disagreeable  to  you  but  me.  I  did  n't  mean 
to  be  so  yesterday,  and  I  don't  to-day ;  but  I  'm 
perfectly  free  now  to  want  you,  and  I  want  you 
much  more  than  you've  allowed  me  to  explain. 
You  '11  see  if  I  'm  not  all  right,  if  you  '11  let  me 
come  to  you.  Don't  be  afraid  —  I  '11  not  hurt 
you  nor  trouble  you.  I  give  you  my  honor  I  '11 
not  hurt  any  one.  Only  I  must  see  you,  on  what 
I  had  to  say  to  Mrs.  B.  She  was  nastier  than  I 
thought  she  could  be,  but  I  'm  behaving  like  an 
angel.  I  assure  you  I  'm  all  right  —  that 's  ex- 
actly what  I  want  you  to  see.  You  owe  me 
something,  you  know,  for  what  you  said  you 
would  do  and  have  n't  done ;  what  your  departure 
without  a  word  gives  me  to  understand  —  doesn't 
it?  —  that  you  definitely  can't  do.  Don't  simply 
forsake  me.  See  me,  if  you  only  see  me  once.  I 
sha'n't  wait  for  any  leave  —  I  shall  come  down 
to-morrow.  I  've  been  looking  into  trains  and 
find  there  's  something  that  will  bring  me  down 
just  after  lunch  and  something  very  good  for  get- 
ting me  back.  I  won't  stop  long.  For  God's 
sake,  be  there." 


21 8  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

This  communication  arrived  in  the  morning, 
but  Fleda  would  still  have  had  time  to  wire  a 
protest.  She  debated  on  that  alternative  ;  then 
she  read  the  note  over  and  found  in  one  phrase 
an  exact  statement  of  her  duty.  Owen's  simpli- 
city had  expressed  it,  and  her  subtlety  had  no- 
thing to  answer.  She  owed  him  something  for 
her  obvious  failure,  and  what  she  owed  him  was 
to  receive  him.  If  indeed  she  had  known  he 
would  make  this  attempt  she  might  have  been 
held  to  have  gained  nothing  by  her  flight.  Well, 
she  had  gained  what  she  had  gained  —  she  had 
gained  the  interval.  She  had  no  compunction 
for  the  greater  trouble  she  should  give  the  young 
man  ;  it  was  now  doubtless  right  that  he  should 
have  as  much  trouble  as  possible.  Maggie,  who 
thought  she  was  in  her  confidence,  but  was  im- 
mensely not,  had  reproached  her  for  having  left 
Mrs.  Gereth,  and  Maggie  was  just  in  this  propor- 
tion gratified  to  hear  of  the  visitor  with  whom, 
early  in  the  afternoon,  she  would  have  to  ask  to 
be  left  alone.  Maggie  liked  to  see  far,  and  now 
she  could  sit  upstairs  and  rake  the  whole  future. 
She  had  known  that,  as  she  familiarly  said,  there 
was  something  the  matter  with  Fleda,  and  the 
value  of  that  knowledge  was  augmented  by  the 
fact  that  there  was  apparently  also  something  the 
matter  with  Mr.  Gereth. 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  2IQ 

Fleda,  downstairs,  learned  soon  enough  what 
this  was.  It  was  simply  that,  as  he  announced 
the  moment  he  stood  before  her,  he  was  now  all 
right.  When  she  asked  him  what  he  meant  by 
that  state  he  replied  that  he  meant  he  could 
practically  regard  himself  henceforth  as  a  free 
man :  he  had  had  at  West  Kensington,  as  soon  as 
they  got  into  the  street,  such  a  horrid  scene  with 
Mrs.  Brigstock. 

"  I  knew  what  she  wanted  to  say  to  me  :  that 's 
why  I  was  determined  to  get  her  off.  I  knew  I 
shouldn't  like  it,  but  I  was  perfectly  prepared," 
said  Owen.  "  She  brought  it  out  as  soon  as  we 
got  round  the  corner ;  she  asked  me  point-blank 
if  I  was  in  love  with  you." 

"  And  what  did  you  say  to  that  ? " 
"That  it  was  none  of  her  business." 
"  Ah,"  said  Fleda,  "  I  'm  not  so  sure  !  " 
"  Well,  /  am,  and  I  'm  the  person  most  con- 
cerned.   Of  course  I  did  n't  use  just  those  words  : 
I  was  perfectly  civil,  quite  as  civil  as  she.     But  I 
told  her  I  did  n't  consider  she  had  a  right  to  put 
me  any  such  question.     I  said  I  was  n't  sure  that 
even  Mona  had,  with  the  extraordinary  line,  you 
know,  that  Mona  has  taken.     At  any  rate  the 
whole  thing,  the  way  /  put  it,  was  between  Mona 
and  me  ;  and  between  Mona  and  me,  if  she  did  n't 
mind,  it  would  just  have  to  remain." 


22O  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

Fleda  was  silent  a  little.  "All  that  didn't 
answer  her  question." 

"  Then  you  think  I  ought  to  have  told  her  ?  " 

Again  our  young  lady  reflected.  "I  think  I  'm 
rather  glad  you  did  n't." 

"  I  knew  what  I  was  about,"  said  Owen.  "  It 
did  n't  strike  me  that  she  had  the  least  right  to 
come  down  on  us  that  way  and  ask  for  explana- 
tions." 

Fleda  looked  very  grave,  weighing  the  whole 
matter.  "I  dare  say  that  when  she  started, 
when  she  arrived,  she  did  n't  mean  to  '  come 
down.' " 

"What  then  did  she  mean  to  do  ? " 

"  What  she  said  to  me  just  before  she  went : 
she  meant  to  plead  with  me." 

"  Oh,  I  heard  her  !  "  said  Owen.  "  But  plead 
with  you  for  what  ? " 

"For  you,  of  course  —  to  entreat  me  to  give 
you  up.  She  thinks  me  awfully  designing  —  that 
I  've  taken  some  sort  of  possession  of  you." 

Owen  stared.  "You  haven't  lifted  a  finger! 
It 's  I  who  have  taken  possession." 

"  Very  true,  you  've  done  it  all  yourself." 
Fleda  spoke  gravely  and  gently,  without  a  breath 
of  coquetry.  "  But  those  are  shades  between 
which  she  's  probably  not  obliged  to  distinguish. 
It 's  enough  for  her  that  we  're  singularly  inti- 
mate." 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  221 

"  I  am,  but  you  're  not ! "  Owen  exclaimed. 

Fleda  gave  a  dim  smile.  "You  make  me  at 
least  feel  that  I  'm  learning  to  know  you  very 
well  when  I  hear  you  say  such  a  thing  as  that. 
Mrs.  Brigstock  came  to  get  round  me,  to  suppli- 
cate me,"  she  went  on ;  "  but  to  find  you  there, 
looking  so  much  at  home,  paying  me  a  friendly 
call  and  shoving  the  tea-things  about  —  that  was 
too  much  for  her  patience.  She  does  n't  know, 
you  see,  that  I  'm  after  all  a  decent  girl.  She 
simply  made  up  her  mind  on  the  spot  that  I  'm  a 
very  bad  case." 

"I  couldn't  stand  the  way  she  treated  you, 
and  that  was  what  I  had  to  say  to  her,"  Owen 
returned. 

"  She  's  simple  and  slow,  but  she 's  not  a  fool : 
I  think  she  treated  me,  on  the  whole,  very  well." 
Fleda  remembered  how  Mrs.  Gereth  had  treated 
Mona  when  the  Brigstocks  came  down  to  Poyn- 
ton. 

Owen  evidently  thought  her  painfully  perverse. 
"  It  was  you  who  carried  it  off ;  you  behaved  like 
a  brick.  And  so  did  I,  I  consider.  If  you  only 
knew  the  difficulty  I  had !  I  told  her  you  were 
the  noblest  and  straightest  of  women." 

itjt 

"  That  can  hardly  have  removed  her  impression 
that  there  are  things  I  put  you  up  to." 

"  It  did  n't,"  Owen  replied  with  candor.     "  She 


222  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

said  our  relation,  yours  and  mine,  is  n't  innocent." 

"  What  did  she  mean  by  that  ? " 

"  As  you  may  suppose,  I  particularly  inquired. 
Do  you  know  what  she  had  the  cheek  to  tell  me  ? 
Owen  asked.  "  She  did  n't  better  it  much  :  she 
said  she  meant  that  it 's  excessively  unnatural." 

Fleda  considered  afresh.  "Well,  it  is!"  she 
brought  out  at  last. 

"  Then,  upon  my  honor,  it 's  only  you  who  make 
it  so  !  "  Her  perversity  was  distinctly  too  much 
for  him.  "  I  mean  you  make  it  so  by  the  way 
you  keep  me  off." 

"Have  I  kept  you  off  to-day?"  Fleda  sadly 
shook  her  head,  raising  her  arms  a  little  and 
dropping  them. 

Her  gesture  of  resignation  gave  him  a  pretext 
for  catching  at  her  hand,  but  before  he  could  take 
it  she  had  put  it  behind  her.  They  had  been 
seated  together  on  Maggie's  single  sofa,  and  her 
movement  brought  her  to  her  feet,  while  Owen, 
looking  at  her  reproachfully,  leaned  back  in  dis- 
couragement. "  What  good  does  it  do  me  to  be 
here  when  I  find  you  only  a  stone  ?  " 

She  met  his  eyes  with  all  the  tenderness  she 
had  not  yet  uttered,  and  she  had  not  known  till 
this  moment  how  great  was  the  accumulation. 
"Perhaps,  after  all,"  she  risked,  "there  may  be 
even  in  a  stone  still  some  little  help  for  you." 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  22$ 

Owen  sat  there  a  minute  staring  at  her.  "  Ah, 
you  're  beautiful,  more  beautiful  than  any  one," 
he  broke  out,  "  but  I  '11  be  hanged  if  I  can  ever 
understand  you !  On  Tuesday,  at  your  father's, 
you  were  beautiful  —  as  beautiful,  just  before  I 
left,  as  you  are  at  this  instant.  But  the  next  day, 
when  I  went  back,  I  found  it  had  apparently 
meant  nothing ;  and  now,  again,  that  you  let  me 
come  here  and  you  shine  at  me  like  an  angel,  it 
does  n't  bring  you  an  inch  nearer  to  saying  what 
I  want  you  to  say."  He  remained  a  moment 
longer  in  the  same  position  ;  then  he  jerked  him- 
self up.  "  What  I  want  you  to  say  is  that  you 
like  me  —  what  I  want  you  to  say  is  that  you  pity 
me."  He  sprang  up  and  came  to  her.  "What  I 
want  you  to  say  is  that  you  '11  save  me  ! " 

Fleda  hesitated.  "Why  do  you  need  saving, 
when  you  announced  to  me  just  now  that  you  're 
a  free  man  ? " 

He  too  hesitated,  but  he  was  not  checked. 
"  It 's  just  for  the  reason  that  I  'm  free.  Don't 
you  know  what  I  mean,  Miss  Vetch?  I  want 
you  to  marry  me." 

Fleda,  at  this,  put  out  her  hand  in  charity ;  she 
held  his  own,  which  quickly  grasped  it  a  moment, 
and  if  he  had  described  her  as  shining  at  him  it 
may  be  assumed  that  she  shone  all  the  more  in 
her  deep,  still  smile.  "  Let  me  hear  a  little  more 


224  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

about  your  freedom  first,"  she  said.  "I  gather 
that  Mrs.  Brigstock  was  not  wholly  satisfied  with 
the  way  you  disposed  of  her  question." 

"  I  dare  say  she  was  n't.  But  the  less  she  's 
satisfied  the  more  I  'm  free." 

"  What  bearing  have  her  feelings,  pray? "  Fleda 
asked. 

"  Why,  Mona  's  much  worse  than  her  mother. 
She  wants  much  more  to  give  me  up." 

"  Then  why  does  n't  she  do  it  ? " 

"She  will,  as  soon  as  her  mother  gets  home 
and  tells  her." 

"  Tells  her  what  ? "  Fleda  inquired. 

"Why,  that  I  'm  in  love  with  you  !  " 

Fleda  debated.  "Are  you  so  very  sure  she 
will  ? " 

"  Certainly  I  'm  sure,  with  all  the  evidence  I 
already  have.  That  will  finish  her ! "  Owen 
declared. 

This  made  his  companion  thoughtful  again. 
"  Can  you  take  such  pleasure  in  her  being  *  fin- 
ished '  —  a  poor  girl  you  Ve  once  loved  ? " 

Owen  waited  long  enough  to  take  in  the  ques- 
tion ;  then  with  a  serenity  startling  even  to  her 
knowledge  of  his  nature,  "  I  don't  think  I  can 
have  really  loved  her,  you  know,"  he  replied. 

Fleda  broke  into  a  laugh  which  gave  him  a 
surprise  as  visible  as  the  emotion  it  testified  to. 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  22$ 

"  Then  how  am  I  to  know  that  you  '  really  '  love 

—  anybody  else  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  '11  show  you  that ! "  said  Owen. 

"  I  must  take  it  on  trust/'  the  girl  pursued. 
"  And  what  if  Mona  does  n't  give  you  up  ?  "  she 
added. 

Owen  was  baffled  but  a  few  seconds  ;  he  had 
thought  of  everything.  "  Why,  that 's  just  where 
you  come  in." 

"  To  save  you  ?  I  see.  You  mean  I  must  get 
rid  of  her  for  you."  His  blankness  showed  for 
a  little  that  he  felt  the  chill  of  her  cold  logic ; 
but  as  she  waited  for  his  rejoinder  she  knew  to 
which  of  them  it  cost  most.  He  gasped  a  min- 
ute, and  that  gave  her  time  to  say :  "  You  see, 
Mr.  Owen,  how  impossible  it  is  to  talk  of  such 
things  yet!" 

Like  lightning  he  had  grasped  her  arm.  "You 
mean  you  will  talk  of  them  ? "  Then  as  he 
began  to  take  the  flood  of  assent  from  her  eyes : 
"  You  will  listen  to  me  ?  Oh,  you  dear,  you  dear 

—  when,  when  ?  " 

"  Ah,  when  it  is  n't  mere  misery ! "  The 
words  had  broken  from  her  in  a  sudden  loud  cry, 
and  what  next  happened  was  that  the  very  sound 
of  her  pain  upset  her.  She  heard  her  own  true 
note ;  she  turned  short  away  from  him  ;  in  a 
moment  she  had  burst  into  sobs  ;  in  another  his 


226  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

arms  were  round  her ;  the  next  she  had  let  her- 
self go  so  far  that  even  Mrs.  Gereth  might  have 
seen  it.  He  clasped  her,  and  she  gave  herself  — 
she  poured  out  her  tears  on  his  breast ;  some- 
thing prisoned  and  pent  throbbed  and  gushed ; 
something  deep  and  sweet  surged  up  —  some- 
thing that  came  from  far  within  and  far  off,  that 
had  begun  with  the  sight  of  him  in  his  indiffer- 
ence and  had  never  had  rest  since  then.  The 
surrender  was  short,  but  the  relief  was  long  :  she 
felt  his  lips  upon  her  face  and  his  arms  tighten 
with  his  full  divination.  What  she  did,  what  she 
had  done,  she  scarcely  knew :  she  only  was 
aware,  as  she  broke  from  him  again,  of  what  had 
taken  place  in  his  own  quick  breast.  What  had 
taken  place  was  that,  with  the  click  of  a  spring, 
he  saw.  He  had  cleared  the  high  wall  at  a 
bound ;  they  were  together  without  a  veil.  She 
had  not  a  shred  of  a  secret  left ;  it  was  as  if  a 
whirlwind  had  come  and  gone,  laying  low  the 
great  false  front  that  she  had  built  up  stone  by 
stone.  The  strangest  thing  of  all  was  the  mo- 
mentary sense  of  desolation. 

"Ah,  all  the  while  you  cared?"  Owen  read 
the  truth  with  a  wonder  so  great  that  it  was 
visibly  almost  a  sadness,  a  terror  caused  by  his 
sudden  perception  of  where  the  impossibility  was 
not.  That  made  it  all  perhaps  elsewhere. 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  22/ 

"  I  cared,  I  cared,  I  cared  !  "  Fleda  moaned  it 
as  defiantly  as  if  she  were  confessing  a  misdeed. 
"  How  could  n't  I  care  ?  But  you  must  n't,  you 
must  never,  never  ask !  It  is  n't  for  us  to  talk 
about !  "  she  insisted.  "  Don't  speak  of  it,  don't 
speak ! " 

It  was  easy  indeed  not  to  speak  when  the 
difficulty  was  to  find  words.  He  clasped  his 
hands  before  her  as  he  might  have  clasped  them 
at  an  altar ;  his  pressed  palms  shook  together 
while  he  held  his  breath  and  while  she  stilled 
herself  in  the  effort  to  come  round  again  to  the 
real  and  the  right.  He  helped  this  effort,  sooth- 
ing her  into  a  seat  with  a  touch  as  light  as  if  she 
had  really  been  something  sacred.  She  sank 
into  a  chair  and  he  dropped  before  her  on  his 
knees ;  she  fell  back  with  closed  eyes  and  he 
buried  his  face  in  her  lap.  There  was  no  way  to 
thank  her  but  this  act  of  prostration,  which  lasted, 
in  silence,  till  she  laid  consenting  hands  on  him, 
touched  his  head  and  stroked  it,  held  it  in  her 
tenderness  till  he  acknowledged  his  long  density. 
He  made  the  avowal  seem  only  his  —  made  her, 
when  she  rose  again,  raise  him  at  last,  softly,  as 
if  from  the  abasement  of  shame.  If  in  each 
other's  eyes  now,  however,  they  saw  the  truth, 
this  truth,  to  Fleda,  looked  harder  even  than 
before  —  all  the  harder  that  when,  at  the  very 


228  THE  SPOILS   OF  POYNTOA? 

moment  she  recognized  it,  he* murmured  to  her 
ecstatically,  in  fresh  possession  of  her  hands, 
which  he  drew  up  to  his  breast,  holding  them 
tight  there  with  both  his  own  :  "  I  'm  saved,  I  'm 
saved,  —  I  am  !  I  'm  ready  for  anything.  I  have 
your  word.  Come!."  he  cried,  as  if  from  the 
sight  of  a  response  slower  than  he  needed,  and  in 
the  tone  he  so  often  had  of  a  great  boy  at  a  great 
game. 

She  had  once  more  disengaged  herself,  with 
the  private  vow  that  he  should  n't  yet  touch  her 
again.  It  was  all  too  horribly  soon  —  her  sense 
of  this  was  rapidly  surging  back.  "  We  must  n't 
talk,  we  must  n't  talk ;  we  must  wait !  "  she  in- 
tensely insisted.  "  I  don't  know  what  you  mean 
by  your  freedom  ;  I  don't  see  it,  I  don't  feel  it. 
Where  is  it  yet,  where,  your  freedom  ?  If  it 's 
real  there  's  plenty  of  time,  and  if  it  is  n't  there  's 
more  than  enough.  I  hate  myself,"  she  pro- 
tested, "  for  having  anything  to  say  about  her : 
it 's  like  waiting  for  dead  men's  shoes !  What 
business  is  it  of  mine  what  she  does  ?  She  has 
her  own  trouble  and  her  own  plan.  It 's  too  hid- 
eous to  watch  her  and  count  on  her  ! " 

Owen's  face,  at  this,  showed  a  reviving  dread, 
the  fear  of  some  darksome  process  of  her  mind. 
"  If  you  speak  for  yourself  I  can  understand,  but 
why  is  it  hideous  for  me  ?  " 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  229 

"  Oh,  I  mean  for  myself ! "  Fleda  said  im- 
patiently. 

"  /  watch  her,  /  count  on  her  :  how  can  I  do 
anything  else  ?  If  I  count  on  her  to  let  me  de- 
finitely know  how  we  stand,  I  do  nothing  in  life 
but  what  she  herself  has  led  straight  up  to.  I 
never  thought  of  asking  you  to  '  get  rid  of  her ' 
for  me,  and  I  never  would  have  spoken  to  you  if 
I  had  n't  held  that  I  am  rid  of  her,  that  she  has 
backed  out  of  the  whole  thing.  Did  n't  she  do 
so  from  the  moment  she  began  to  put  it  off  ?  I 
had  already  applied  for  the  license ;  the  very 
invitations  were  half  addressed.  Who  but  she, 
all  of  a  sudden,  demanded  an  unnatural  wait  ? 
It  was  none  of  my  doing ;  I  had  never  dreamed 
of  anything  but  coming  up  to  the  scratch." 
Owen  grew  more  and  more  lucid,  and  more  con- 
fident of  the  effect  of  his  lucidity.  "  She  called 
it  '  taking  a  stand,'  to  see  what  mother  would  do. 
I  told  her  mother  would  do  what  I  would  make 
her  do ;  and  to  that  she  replied  that  she  would 
like  to  see  me  make  her  first.  I  said  I  would 
arrange  that  everything  should  be  all  right,  and 
she  said  she  really  preferred  to  arrange  it  herself. 
It  was  a  flat  refusal  to  trust  me  in  the  smallest 
degree.  Why  then  had  she  pretended  so  tre- 
mendously to  care  for  me  ?  And  of  course,  at 
present,"  said  Owen,  "she  trusts  me,  if  possible, 
still  less." 


230  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

Fleda  paid  this  statement  the  homage  of  a 
minute's  muteness.  "  As  to  that,  naturally,  she 
has  reason." 

"  Why  on  earth  has  she  reason  ? "  Then,  as 
his  companion,  moving  away,  simply  threw  up 
her  hands,  "  I  never  looked  at  you  —  not  to  call 
looking  —  till  she  had  regularly  driven  me  to  it," 
he  went  on.  "  I  know  what  I  'm  about.  I  do 
assure  you  I  'm  all  right !  " 

"  You  're  not  all  right  —  you  're  all  wrong !  " 
Fleda  cried  in  despair.  "  You  must  n't  stay  here, 
you  must  n't !  "  she  repeated  with  clear  decision. 
"  You  make  me  say  dreadful  things,  and  I  feel  as 
if  I  made_^0&  say  them."  But  before  he  could 
reply  she  took  it  up  in  another  tone.  "  Why  in 
the  world,  if  everything  had  changed,  did  n't  you 
break  off  ?  " 

"  I  ?  —  "  The  inquiry  seemed  to  have  moved 
him  to  stupefaction.  "  Can  you  ask  me  that 
question  when  I  only  wanted  to  please  you  ? 
Did  n't  you  seem  to  show  me,  in  your  wonderful 
way,  that  that  was  exactly  how  ?  I  did  n't  break 
off  just  on  purpose  to  leave  it  to  her.  I  did  n't 
break  off  so  that  there  shouldn't  be  a  thing  to 
be  said  against  me." 

The  instant  after  her  challenge  Fleda  had 
faced  him  again  in  self -reproof.  "  There  is  rit  a 
thing  to  be  said  against  you,  and  I  don't  know 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  231 

what  nonsense  you  make  me  talk !  You  have 
pleased  me,  and  you  Ve  been  right  and  good,  and 
it 's  the  only  comfort,  and  you  must  go.  Every- 
thing must  come  from  Mona,  and  if  it  does  n't 
come  we  Ve  said  entirely  too  much.  You  must 
leave  me  alone  —  forever." 

"  Forever  ?  "  Owen  gasped. 

"I  mean  unless  everything  is  different." 

"Everything  is  different  —  when  I  know  /" 

Fleda  winced  at  what  he  knew ;  she  made  a 
wild  gesture  which  seemed  to  whirl  it  out  of  the 
room.  The  mere  allusion  was  like  another  em- 
brace. "  You  know  nothing  —  and  you  must  go 
and  wait !  You  must  n't  break  down  at  this 
point." 

He  looked  about  him  and  took  up  his  hat :  it 
was  as  if,  in  spite  of  frustration,  he  had  got  the 
essence  of  what  he  wanted  and  could  afford  to 
agree  with  her  to  the  extent  of  keeping  up  the 
forms.  He  covered  her  with  his  fine,  simple 
smile,  but  made  no  other  approach.  "  Oh,  I  'm 
so  awfully  happy  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

She  hesitated  :  she  would  only  be  impeccable 
even  though  she  should  have  to  be  sententious. 
"  You  '11  be  happy  if  you  're  perfect !  "  she  risked. 

He  laughed  out  at  this,  and  she  wondered  if, 
with  a  new-born  acuteness,  he  saw  the  absurdity 
of  her  speech,  and  that  no  one  was  happy  just 


232  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

because  no  one  could  be  what  she  so  lightly 
prescribed.  "  I  don't  pretend  to  be  perfect,  but 
I  shall  find  a  letter  to-night !  " 

"  So  much  the  better,  if  it 's  the  kind  of  one 
you  desire."  That  was  the  most  she  could  say, 
and  having  made  it  sound  as  dry  as  possible  she 
lapsed  into  a  silence  so  pointed  as  to  deprive  him 
of  all  pretext  for  not  leaving  her.  Still,  never- 
theless, he  stood  there,  playing  with  his  hat  and 
filling  the  long  pause  with  a  strained  and  anxious 
smile.  He  wished  to  obey  her  thoroughly,  to 
appear  not  to  presume  on  any  advantage  he  had 
won  from  her ;  but  there  was  clearly  something 
he  longed  for  beside.  While  he  showed  this  by 
hanging  on  she  thought  of  two  other  things. 
One  of  these  was  that  his  countenance,  after  all, 
failed  to  bear  out  his  description  of  his  bliss.  As 
for  the  other,  it  had  no  sooner  come  into  her 
head  than  she  found  it  seated,  in  spite  of  her 
resolution,  on  her  lips.  It  took  the  form  of  an 
inconsequent  question.  "  When  did  you  say  Mrs. 
Brigstock  was  to  have  gone  back  ?  " 

Owen  stared.  "  To  Waterbath  ?  She  was  to 
have  spent  the  night  in  town,  don't  you  know  ? 
But  when  she  left  me,  after  our  talk,  I  said  to 
myself  that  she  would  take  an  evening  train.  I 
know  I  made  her  want  to  get  home." 

"  Where  did  you  separate  ?  "  Fleda  asked. 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  233 

"At  the  West  Kensington  station — she  was 
going  to  Victoria.  I  had  walked  with  her  there, 
and  our  talk  was  all  on  the  way." 

Fleda  pondered  a  moment.  "If  she  did  go 
back  that  night  you  would  have  heard  from 
Waterbath  by  this  time." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Owen.  "  I  thought  I 
might  hear  this  morning." 

"  She  can't  have  gone  back,"  Fleda  declared. 
"  Mona  would  have  written  on  the  spot." 

"  Oh  yes,  she  will  have  written  bang  off !  " 
Owen  cheerfully  conceded. 

Fleda  thought  again.  "Then,  even  in  the 
event  of  her  mother's  not  having  got  home  till 
the  morning,  you  would  have  had  your  letter  at 
the  latest  to-day.  You  see  she  has  had  plenty  of 
time." 

Owen  hesitated  ;  then,  "  Oh,  she  's  all  right ! " 
he  laughed.  "  I  go  by  Mrs.  Brigstock's  certain 
effect  on  her  —  the  effect  of  the  temper  the  old 
lady  showed  when  we  parted.  Do  you  know 
what  she  asked  me  ? "  he  sociably  continued. 
"  She  asked  me  in  a  kind  of  nasty  manner  if  I 
supposed  you  '  really '  cared  anything  about  me. 
Of  course  I  told  her  I  supposed  you  did  n't  — 
not  a  solitary  rap.  How  could  I  suppose  you 
do,  with  your  extraordinary  ways  ?  It  does  n't 
matter ;  I  could  see  she  thought  I  lied." 


234  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

"  You  should  have  told  her,  you  know,  that  I 
had  seen  you  in  town  only  that  one  time,"  Fleda 
observed. 

"  By  Jove,  I  did  —  for  you  !  It  was  only  for 
you." 

Something  in  this  touched  the  girl  so  that  for 
a  moment  she  could  not  trust  herself  to  speak. 
"  You  're  an  honest  man,"  she  said  at  last. 
She  had  gone  to  the  door  and  opened  it.  "  Good- 
bye." 

Even  yet,  however,  he  hung  back;  and  she 
remembered  how,  at  the  end  of  his  hour  at  Ricks, 
she  had  been  put  to  it  to  get  him  out  of  the 
house.  He  had  in  general  a  sort  of  cheerful  slow- 
ness which  helped  him  at  such  times,  though  she 
could  now  see  his  strong  fist  crumple  his  big, 
stiff  gloves  as  if  they  had  been  paper.  "But 
even  if  there 's  no  letter  —  "he  began.  He 
began,  but  there  he  left  it. 

"  You  mean,  even  if  she  does  n't  let  you  off  ? 
Ah,  you  ask  me  too  much  !  "  Fleda  spoke  from 
the  tiny  hall,  where  she  had  taken  refuge  be- 
tween the  old  barometer  and  the  old  mackintosh. 
"There  are  things  too  utterly  for  yourselves 
alone.  How  can  I  tell?  What  do  I  know? 
Good-bye,  good-bye  !  If  she  does  n't  let  you  off, 
it  will  be  because  she  is  attached  to  you." 

"  She 's  not,  she 's  not :  there  's  nothing  in  it ! 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  235 

Does  n't  a  fellow  know  ?  —  except  with  you  !  " 
Owen  ruefully  added.  With  this  he  came  out  of 
the  room,  lowering  his  voice  to  secret  supplica- 
tion, pleading  with  her  really  to  meet  him  on  the 
ground  of  the  negation  of  Mona.  It  was  this 
betrayal  of  his  need  of  support  and  sanction  that 
made  her  retreat  —  harden  herself  in  the  effort  to 
save  what  might  remain  of  all  she  had  given, 
given  probably  for  nothing.  The  very  vision  of 
him  as  he  thus  morally  clung  to  her  was  the 
vision  of  a  weakness  somewhere  in  the  core  of  his 
bloom,  a  blessed  manly  weakness  of  which,  if  she 
had  only  the  valid  right,  it  would  be  all  a  sweet- 
ness to  take  care.  She  faintly  sickened,  however, 
with  the  sense  that  there  was  as  yet  no  valid 
right  poor  Owen  could  give.  "  You  can  take  it 
from  my  honor,  you  know,"  he  whispered,  "  that 
she  loathes  me." 

Fleda  had  stood  clutching  the  knob  of  Maggie's 
little  painted  stair-rail  ;  she  took,  on  the  stairs,  a 
step  backward.  "  Why  then  does  n't  she  prove 
it  in  the  only  clear  way  ? " 

"  She  has  proved  it.  Will  you  believe  it  if  you 
see  the  letter  ?  " 

"I  don't  want  to  see  any  letter,"  said  Fleda. 
"  You  '11  miss  your  train." 

Facing  him,  waving  him  away,  she  had  taken 
another  upward  step ;  but  he  sprang  to  the  side 


236  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

of  the  stairs  and  brought  his  hand,  above  the 
banister,  down  hard  on  her  wrist.  "Do  you 
mean  to  tell  me  that  I  must  marry  a  woman  I 
hate  ? " 

From  her  step  she  looked  down  into  his  raised 
face.  "Ah,  you  see  it's  not  true  that  you're 
free  !  "  She  seemed  almost  to  exult.  "  It 's  not 
true  —  it 's  not  true  !  " 

He  only,  at  this,  like  a  buffeting  swimmer, 
gave  a  shake  of'  his  head  and  repeated  his  ques- 
tion. "  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  I  must  marry 
such  a  woman  ?" 

Fleda  hesitated;  he  held  her  fast.  "No. 
Anything  is  better  than  that." 

"  Then,  in  God's  name,  what  must  I  do  ? " 

"  You  must  settle  that  with  her.  You  must  n't 
break  faith.  Anything  is  better  than  that. 
You  must  at  any  rate  be  utterly  sure.  She  must 
love  you  —  how  can  she  help  it  ?  /  would  n't 
give  you  up  !  "  said  Fleda.  She  spoke  in  broken 
bits,  panting  out  her  words.  "  The  great  thing 
is  to  keep  faith.  Where  is  a  man  if  he  does  n't  ? 
If  he  does  n't  he  may  be  so  cruel.  So  cruel,  so 
cruel,  so  cruel!"  Fleda  repeated.  "I  couldn't 
have  a  hand  in  that,  you  know  :  that  's  my  posi- 
tion —  that 's  mine.  You  offered  her  marriage  : 
it's  a  tremendous  thing  for  her."  Then  looking 
at  him  another  moment,  "  /  would  n't  give  you 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  237 

up ! "  she  said  again.  He  still  had  hold  of  her 
arm ;  she  took  in  his  blank  alarm.  With  a  quick 
dip  of  her  face  she  reached  his  hand  with  her 
lips,  pressing  them  to  the  back  of  it  with  a  force 
that  doubled  the  force  of  her  words.  "Never, 
never,  never  ! "  she  cried  ;  and  before  he  could 
succeed  in  seizing  her  she  had  turned  and,  scram- 
bling up  the  stairs,  got  away  from  him  even 
faster  than  she  had  got  away  from  him  at  Ricks. 


XVII 

TEN  days  after  his  visit  she  received  a  commu- 
nication from  Mrs.  Gereth  —  a  telegram  of  eight 
words,  exclusive  of  signature  and  date.  "  Come 
up  immediately  and  stay  with  me  here "  —  it 
was  characteristically  sharp,  as  Maggie  said  ;  but, 
as  Maggie  added,  it  was  also  characteristically 
kind.  "Here"  was  an  hotel  in  London,  and 
Maggie  had  embraced  a  condition  of  life  which 
already  began  to  produce  in  her  some  yearning 
for  hotels  in  London.  She  would  have  responded 
in  an  instant,  and  she  was  surprised  that  her 
sister  seemed  to  hesitate.  Fleda's  hesitation, 
which  lasted  but  an  hour,  was  expressed  in  that 
young  lady's  own  mind  by  the  reflection  that  in 
obeying  her  friend's  summons  she  should  n't 
know  what  she  should  be  "in  for."  Her  friend's 
summons,  however,  was  but  another  name  for 
her  friend's  appeal ;  and  Mrs.  Gereth's  bounty 
had  laid  her  under  obligations  more  sensible 
than  any  reluctance.  In  the  event  —  that  is  at 
the  end  of  her  hour  —  she  testified  to  her  grati- 
tude by  taking  the  train  and  to  her  mistrust  by 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  239 

leaving  her  luggage.  She  went  as  if  she  had 
gone  up  for  the  day.  In  the  train,  however,  she 
had  another  thoughtful  hour,  during  which  it  was 
her  mistrust  that  mainly  deepened.  She  felt  as 
if  for  ten  days  she  had  sat  in  darkness,  looking  to 
the  east  for  a  dawn  that  had  not  yet  glimmered. 
Her  mind  had  lately  been  less  occupied  with 
Mrs.  Gereth ;  it  had  been  so  exceptionally  occu- 
pied with  Mona.  If  the  sequel  was  to  justify 
Owen's  prevision  of  Mrs.  Brigstock's  action  upon 
her  daughter,  this  action  was  at  the  end  of  a 
week  as  much  a  mystery  as  ever.  The  stillness, 
all  round,  had  been  exactly  what  Fleda  desired, 
but  it  gave  her  for  the  time  a  deep  sense  of  fail- 
ure, the  sense  of  a  sudden  drop  from  a  height  at 
which  she  had  all  things  beneath  her.  She  had 
nothing  beneath  her  now ;  she  herself  was  at  the 
bottom  of  the  heap.  No  sign  had  reached  her 
from  Owen  —  poor  Owen,  who  had  clearly  no 
news  to  give  about  his  precious  letter  from  Wa- 
terbath.  If  Mrs.  Brigstock  had  hurried  back  to 
obtain  that  this  letter  should  be  written,  Mrs. 
Brigstock  might  then  have  spared  herself  so  great 
an  inconvenience.  Owen  had  been  silent  for  the 
best  of  all  reasons  —  the  reason  that  he  had  had 
nothing  in  life  to  say.  If  the  letter  had  not  been 
written  he  would  simply  have  had  to  introduce 
some  large  qualification  into  his  account  of  his 


240  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

freedom.  He  had  left  his  young  friend  under 
her  refusal  to  listen  to  him  until  he  should  be 
able,  on  the  contrary,  to  extend  that  picture ;  and 
his  present  submission  was  all  in  keeping  with 
the  rigid  honesty  that  his  young  friend  had  pre- 
scribed. 

It  was  this  that  formed  the  element  through 
which  Mona  loomed  large ;  Fleda  had  enough 
imagination,  a  fine  enough  feeling  for  life,  to  be 
impressed  with  such  an  image  of  successful  im- 
mobility. The  massive  maiden  at  Waterbath  was 
successful  from  the  moment  she  could  entertain 
her  resentments  as  if  they  had  been  poor  rela- 
tions who  need  n't  put  her  to  expense.  She  was 
a  magnificent  dead  weight ;  there  was  something 
positive  and  portentous  in  her  quietude.  "  What 
game  are  they  all  playing  ?  "  poor  Fleda  could 
only  ask  ;  for  she  had  an  intimate  conviction  that 
Owen  was  now  under  the  roof  of  his  betrothed. 
That  was  stupefying  if  he  really  hated  Mona; 
and  if  he  did  n't  really  hate  her  what  had  brought 
him  to  Raphael  Road  and  to  Maggie's  ?  Fleda 
had  no  real  light,  but  she  felt  that  to  account  for 
the  absence  of  any  result  of  their  last  meeting 
would  take  a  supposition  of  the  full  sacrifice  to 
charity  that  she  had  held  up  before  him.  If  he 
had  gone  to  Waterbath  it  had  been  simply  be- 
cause he  had  to  go.  She  had  as  good  as  told 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  241 

him  that  he  would  have  to  go ;  that  this  was  an 
inevitable  incident  of  his  keeping  perfect  faith  — 
faith  so  literal  that  the  smallest  subterfuge  would 
always  be  a  reproach  to  him.  When  she  tried  to 
remember  that  it  was  for  herself  he  was  taking 
his  risk,  she  felt  how  weak  a  way  that  was  of 
expressing  Mona's  supremacy.  There  would  be 
no  need  of  keeping  him  up  if  there  were  nothing 
to  keep  him  up  to.  Her  eyes  grew  wan  as  she 
discerned  in  the  impenetrable  air  that  Mona's 
thick  outline  never  wavered  an  inch.  She  won- 
dered fitfully  what  Mrs.  Gereth  had  by  this  time 
made  of  it,  and  reflected  with  a  strange  elation 
that  the  sand  on  which  the  mistress  of  Ricks  had 
built  a  momentary  triumph  was  quaking  beneath 
the  surface.  As  The  Morning  Post  still  held  its 
peace,  she  would  be,  of  course,  more  confident ; 
but  the  hour  was  at  hand  at  which  Owen  would 
have  absolutely  to  do  either  one  thing  or  the  other. 
To  keep  perfect  faith  was  to  inform  against  his 
mother,  and  to  hear  the  police  at  her  door  would 
be  Mrs.  Gereth's  awakening.  How  much  she 
was  beguiled  Fleda  could  see  from  her  having 
been  for  a  whole  month  quite  as  deep  and  dark 
as  Mona.  She  had  let  her  young  friend  alone 
because  of  the  certitude,  cultivated  at  Ricks,  that 
Owen  had  done  the  opposite.  He  had  done  the 
opposite  indeed,  but  much  good  had  that  brought 


242  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

forth  !  To  have  sent  for  her  now,  Fleda  felt,  was 
from  this  point  of  view  wholly  natural :  she  had 
sent  for  her  to  show  at  last  how  much  she  had 
scored.  If,  however,  Owen  was  really  at  Water- 
bath  the  refutation  of  that  boast  was  easy. 

Fleda  found  Mrs.  Gereth  in  modest  apartments 
and  with  an  air  of  fatigue  in  her  distinguished 
face  —  a  sign,  as  she  privately  remarked,  of  the 
strain  of  that  effort  to  be  discreet  of  which  she 
herself  had  been  having  the  benefit.  It  was  a 
constant  feature  of  their  relation  that  this  lady 
could  make  Fleda  blench  a  little,  and  that  the 
effect  proceeded  from  the  intense  pressure  of  her 
confidence.  If  the  confidence  had  been  heavy 
even  when  the  girl,  in  the  early  flush  of  devotion, 
had  been  able  to  feel  herself  most  responsive,  it 
drew  her  heart  into  her  mouth  now  that  she  had 
reserves  and  conditions,  now  that  she  couldn't 
simplify  with  the  same  bold  hand  as  her  protect- 
ress. In  the  very  brightening  of  the  tired  look, 
and  at  the  moment  of  their  embrace,  Fleda  felt 
on  her  shoulders  the  return  of  the  load,  so  that 
her  spirit  frankly  quailed  as  she  asked  herself 
what  she  had  brought  up  from  her  trusted  seclu- 
sion to  support  it.  Mrs.  Gereth's  free  manner 
always  made  a  joke  of  weakness,  and  there  was 
in  such  a  welcome  a  richness,  a  kind  of  familiar 
nobleness,  that  suggested  shame  to  a  harried 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  243 

conscience.  Something  had  happened,  she  could 
see,  and  she  could  also  see,  in  the  bravery  that 
seemed  to  announce  it  had  changed  everything, 
a  formidable  assumption  that  what  had  happened 
was  what  a  healthy  young  woman  must  like. 
The  absence  of  luggage  had  made  this  young 
woman  feel  meagre  even  before  her  companion, 
taking  in  the  bareness  at  a  second  glance,  ex- 
claimed upon  it  and  roundly  rebuked  her.  Of 
course  she  had  expected  her  to  stay. 

Fleda  thought  best  to  show  bravery  too,  and 
to  show  it  from  the  first.  "  What  you  expected, 
dear  Mrs.  Gereth,  is  exactly  what  I  came  up  to 
ascertain.  It  struck  me  as  right  to  do  that  first. 
I  mean  to  ascertain,  without  making  prepara- 
tions." 

"  Then  you  '11  be  so  good  as  to  make  them  on 
the  spot ! "  Mrs.  Gereth  was  most  emphatic. 
"You're  going  abroad  with  me." 

Fleda  wondered,  but  she  also  smiled.  "To- 
night —  to-morrow  ? " 

"  In  as  few  days  as  possible.  That 's  all  that 's 
left  for  me  now."  Fleda's  heart,  at  this,  gave  a 
bound  ;  she  wondered  to  what  particular  differ- 
ence in  Mrs.  Gereth' s  situation  as  last  known  to 
her  it  was  an  allusion.  "  I  've  made  my  plan," 
her  friend  continued  :  "  I  go  for  at  least  a  year. 
We  shall  go  straight  to  Florence ;  we  can  manage 


244  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

there.  I  of  course  don't  look  to  you,  however," 
she  added,  "  to  stay  with  me  all  that  time.  That 
will  require  to  be  settled.  Owen  will  have  to 
join  us  as  soon  as  possible ;  he  may  not  be  quite 
ready  to  get  off  with  us.  But  I  'm  convinced  it 's 
quite  the  right  thing  to  go.  It  will  make  a  good 
change ;  it  will  put  in  a  decent  interval." 

Fleda  listened ;  she  was  deeply  mystified. 
"  How  kind  you  are  to  me  !  "  she  presently  said. 
The  picture  suggested  so  many  questions  that 
she  scarcely  knew  which  to  ask  first.  She  took 
one  at  a  venture.  "  You  really  have  it  from  Mr. 
Gereth  that  he  '11  give  us  his  company  ? " 

If  Mr.  Gereth's  mother  smiled  in  response  to 
this,  Fleda  knew  that  her  smile  was  a  tacit 
criticism  of  such  a  form  of  reference  to  her  son. 
Fleda  habitually  spoke  of  him  as  Mr.  Owen,  and 
it  was  a  part  of  her  present  vigilance  to  appear  to 
have  relinquished  that  right.  Mrs.  Gereth's  man- 
ner confirmed  a  certain  impression  of  her  pre- 
tending to  more  than  she  felt;  her  very  first 
words  had  conveyed  it,  and  it  reminded  Fleda  of 
the  conscious  courage  with  which,  weeks  before, 
the  lady  had  met  her  visitor's  first  startled  stare 
at  the  clustered  spoils  of  Poynton.  It  was  her 
practice  to  take  immensely  for  granted  whatever 
she  wished.  "  Oh,  if  you  '11  answer  for  him,  it 
will  do  quite  as  well !  "  she  said.  Then  she  put 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  245 

her  hands  on  the  girl's  shoulders  and  held  them 
at  arm's  length,  as  if  to  shake  them  a  little,  while 
in  the  depths  of  her  shining  eyes  Fleda  discov- 
ered something  obscure  and  unquiet.  "  You  bad, 
false  thing,  why  did  n't  you  tell  me  ? "  Her  tone 
softened  her  harshness,  and  her  visitor  had  never 
had  such  a  sense  of  her  indulgence.  Mrs.  Gereth 
could  show  patience  ;  it  was  a  part  of  the  general 
bribe,  but  it  was  also  like  the  handing  in  of  a 
heavy  bill  before  which  Fleda  could  only  fumble 
in  a  penniless  pocket.  "You  must  perfectly  have 
known  at  Ricks,  and  yet  you  practically  denied  it. 
That 's  why  I  call  you  bad  and  false  ! "  It  was 
apparently  also  why  she  again  almost  roughly 
kissed  her. 

"  I  think  that  before  I  answer  you  I  had  better 
know  what  you  're  talking  about,"  Fleda  said. 

Mrs.  Gereth  looked  at  her  with  a  slight  increase 
of  hardness.  "  You  've  done  everything  you  need 
for  modesty,  my  dear  !  If  he  's  sick  with  love  of 
you,  you  haven't  had  to  wait  for  me  to  inform 
you/' 

Fleda  hesitated.  "  Has  he  informed  you,  dear 
Mrs.  Gereth  ? " 

Dear  Mrs.  Gereth  smiled  sweetly.  "  How  could 
he,  when  our  situation  is  such  that  he  communi- 
cates with  me  only  through  you,  and  that  you  are 
so  tortuous  you  conceal  everything  ?  " 


246  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

"  Did  n't  he  answer  the  note  in  which  you  let 
him  know  that  I  was  in  town  ? "  Fleda  asked. 

"He  answered  it  sufficiently  by  rushing  off  on 
the  spot  to  see  you." 

Mrs.  Gereth  met  that  allusion  with  a  prompt 
firmness  that  made  almost  insolently  light  of  any 
ground  of  complaint,  and  Fleda's  own  sense  of 
responsibility  was  now  so  vivid  that  all  resent- 
ments turned  comparatively  pale.  She  had  no 
heart  to  produce  a  grievance ;  she  could  only,  left 
as  she  was  with  the  little  mystery  on  her  hands, 
produce,  after  a  moment,  a  question.  "  How 
then  do  you  come  to  know  that  your  son  has  ever 
thought  —  " 

"  That  he  would  give  his  ears  to  get  you  ? " 
Mrs.  Gereth  broke  in.  "  I  had  a  visit  from  Mrs. 
Brigstock." 

Fleda  opened  her  eyes.  "She  went  down  to 
Ricks  ? " 

"  The  day  after  she  had  found  Owen  at  your 
feet.  She  knows  everything." 

Fleda  shook  her  head  sadly ;  she  was  more 
startled  than  she  cared  to  show.  This  odd  journey 
of  Mrs.  Brigstock' s,  which,  with  a  simplicity  equal 
for  once  to  Owen's,  she  had  not  divined,  now 
struck  her  as  having  produced  the  hush  of  the 
last  ten  days.  "There  are  things  she  doesn't 
know  ! "  she  presently  exclaimed. 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  247 

"  She  knows  he  would  do  anything  to  marry 
you." 

"  He  has  n't  told  her  so,"  Fleda  said. 

"  No,  but  he  has  told  you.  That  's  better 
still!"  laughed  Mrs.  Gereth.  "My  dear  child," 
she  went  on  with  an  air  that  affected  the  girl  as 
a  sort  of  blind  profanity,  "don't  try  to  make 
yourself  out  better  than  you  are.  /  know  what 
you  are.  I  have  n't  lived  with  you  so  much  for 
nothing.  You  're  not  quite  a  saint  in  heaven  yet. 
Lord,  what  a  creature  you  'd  have  thought  me  in 
my  good  time !  But  you  do  like  it,  fortunately, 
you  idiot.  You  're  pale  with  your  passion,  you 
sweet  thing.  That 's  exactly  what  I  wanted  to 
see.  I  can't  for  the  life  of  me  think  where  the 
shame  comes  in."  Then  with  a  finer  significance, 
a  look  that  seemed  to  Fleda  strange,  she  added : 
"  It 's  all  right." 

"I  Ve  seen  him  but  twice,"  said  Fleda. 

"  But  twice  ? "  Mrs.  Gereth  still  smiled. 

"  On  the  occasion,  at  papa's,  that  Mrs.  Brig- 
stock  told  you  of,  and  one  day,  since  then,  down 
at  Maggie's." 

"  Well,  those  things  are  between  yourselves, 
and  you  seem  to  me  both  poor  creatures  at  best." 
Mrs.  Gereth  spoke  with  a  rich  humor  which 
tipped  with  light  for  an  instant  a  real  conviction. 
"I  don't  know  what  you've  got  in  your  veins: 


248  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

you  absurdly  exaggerated  the  difficulties.  But 
enough  is  as  good  as  a  feast,  and  when  once  I 
get  you  abroad  together  —  !  "  She  checked  her- 
self as  if  from  excess  of  meaning  ;  what  might 
happen  when  she  should  get  them  abroad  to- 
gether was  to  be  gathered  only  from  the  way  she 
slowly  rubbed  her  hands. 

The  gesture,  however,  made  the  promise  so  defi- 
nite that  for  a  moment  her  companion  was  almost 
beguiled.  But  there  was  nothing  to  account,  as 
yet,  for  the  wealth  of  Mrs.  Gereth's  certitude : 
the  visit  of  the  lady  of  Waterbath  appeared  but 
half  to  explain  it.  "Is  it  permitted  to  be  sur- 
prised," Fleda  deferentially  asked,  "  at  Mrs.  Brig- 
stock's  thinking  it  would  help  her  to  see  you  ?  " 

"  It 's  never  permitted  to  be  surprised  at  the 
aberrations  of  born  fools,"  said  Mrs.  Gereth.  "  If 
a  cow  should  try  to  calculate,  that 's  the  kind  of 
happy  thought  she  'd  have.  Mrs.  Brigstock  came 
down  to  plead  with  me." 

Fleda  mused  a  moment.  "That's  what  she 
came  to  do  with  me"  she  then  honestly  returned. 
"But  what  did  she  expect  to  get  of  you,  with 
your  opposition  so  marked  from  the  first  ? " 

"  She  did  n't  know  I  want  you,  my  dear.  It 's 
a  wonder,  with  all  my  violence  —  the  gross  publi- 
city I  've  given  my  desires.  But  she 's  as  stupid 
as  an  owl  —  she  does  n't  feel  your  charm." 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  249 

Fleda  felt  herself  flush  slightly,  but  she  tried 
to  smile.  "  Did  you  tell  her  all  about  it  ?  Did 
you  make  her  understand  you  want  me  ? " 

"  For  what  do  you  take  me  ?  I  was  n't  such  a 
donkey." 

"So  as  not  to  aggravate  Mona?"  Fleda  sug- 
gested. 

"  So  as  not  to  aggravate  Mona,  naturally. 
We've  had  a  narrow  course  to  steer,  but  thank 
God  we  're  at  last  in  the  open  !  " 

"  What  do  you  call  the  open,  Mrs.  Gereth  ? " 
Fleda  demanded.  Then  as  the  other  faltered  : 
"  Do  you  know  where  Mr.  Owen  is  to-day  ?  " 

Mrs.  Gereth  stared.  "Do  you  mean  he's  at 
Waterbath  ?  Well,  that 's  your  own  affair.  I 
can  bear  it  if  you  can." 

"Wherever  he  is,  I  can  bear  it,"  Fleda  said. 
"  But  I  have  n't  the  least  idea  where  he  is." 

"  Then  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself ! " 
Mrs.  Gereth  broke  out  with  a  change  of  note 
that  showed  how  deep  a  passion  underlay  every- 
thing she  had  said.  The  poor  woman,  catching 
her  companion's  hand,  however,  the  next  moment, 
as  if  to  retract  something  of  this  harshness,  spoke 
more  patiently.  "Don't  you  understand,  Fleda, 
how  immensely,  how  devotedly,  I  Ve  trusted 
you  ?  "  Her  tone  was  indeed  a  supplication. 

Fleda  was  infinitely  shaken ;  she  was  silent  a 


250  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON~ 

little.     "  Yes,  I  understand.     Did  she  go  to  you 
to  complain  of  me  ? " 

"  She  came  to  see  what  she  could  do.  She  had 
been  tremendously  upset,  the  day  before,  by  what 
had  taken  place  at  your  father's,  and  she  had 
posted  down  to  Ricks  on  the  inspiration  of  the 
moment.  She  had  n't  meant  it  on  leaving  home ; 
it  was  the  sight  of  you  closeted  there  with  Owen 
that  had  suddenly  determined  her.  The  whole 
story,  she  said,  was  written  in  your  two  faces : 
she  spoke  as  if  she  had  never  seen  such  an 
exhibition.  Owen  was  on  the  brink,  but  there 
might  still  be  time  to  save  him,  and  it  was  with 
this  idea  she  had  bearded  me  in  my  den.  '  What 
won't  a  mother  do,  you  know?'  —  that  was  one  of 
the  things  she  said.  What  would  n't  a  mother  do 
indeed?  I  thought  I  had  sufficiently  shown  her 
what !  She  tried  to  break  me  down  by  an  appeal 
to  my  good  nature,  as  she  called  it,  and  from  the 
moment  she  opened  on  you,  from  the  moment  she 
denounced  Owen's  falsity,  I  was  as  good-natured 
as  she  could  wish.  I  understood  that  it  was  a 
plea  for  mere  mercy,  that  you  and  he  between 
you  were  killing  her  child.  Of  course  I  was 
delighted  that  Mona  should  be  killed,  but  I  was 
studiously  kind  to  Mrs.  Brigstock.  At  the  same 
time  I  was  honest,  I  did  n't  pretend  to  anything 
I  could  n't  feel.  I  asked  her  why  the  marriage 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

had  n't  taken  place  months  ago,  when  Owen  was 
perfectly  ready  ;  and  I  showed  her  how  com- 
pletely that  fatuous  mistake  on  Mona's  part 
cleared  his  responsibility.  It  was  she  who  had 
killed  him  —  it  was  she  who  had  destroyed  his 
affection,  his  illusions.  Did  she  want  him  now 
when  he  was  estranged,  when  he  was  disgusted, 
when  he  had  a  sore  grievance?  She  reminded 
me  that  Mona  had  a  sore  grievance  too,  but  she 
admitted  that  she  had  n't  come  to  me  to  speak  of 
that.  What  she  had  come  to  me  for  was  not  to 
get  the  old  things  back,  but  simply  to  get  Owen. 
What  she  wanted  was  that  I  would,  in  simple 
pity,  see  fair  play.  Owen  had  been  awfully 
bedeviled  —  she  did  n't  call  it  that,  she  called  it 
' misled'  —  but  it  was  simply  you  who  had  be- 
deviled him.  He  would  be  all  right  still  if  I 
would  see  that  you  were  out  of  the  way.  She 
asked  me  point-blank  if  it  was  possible  I  could 
want  him  to  marry  you." 

Fleda  had  listened  in  unbearable  pain  and 
growing  terror,  as  if  her  interlocutress,  stone  by 
stone,  were  piling  some  fatal  mass  upon  her 
breast.  She  had  the  sense  of  being  buried  alive, 
smothered  in  the  mere  expansion  of  another  will ; 
and  now  there  was  but  one  gap  left  to  the  air. 
A  single  word,  she  felt,  might  close  it,  and  with 
the  question  that  came  to  her  lips  as  Mrs.  Gereth 


252  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

paused  she  seemed  to  herself  to  ask,  in  cold 
dread,  for  her  doom.  "What  did  you  say  to 
that  ? "  she  inquired. 

"I  was  embarrassed,  for  I  saw  my  danger  — 
the  danger  of  her  going  home  and  saying  to 
Mona  that  I  was  backing  you  up.  It  had  been  a 
bliss  to  learn  that  Owen  had  really  turned  to  you, 
but  my  joy  didn't  put  me  off  my  guard.  I 
reflected  intensely  for  a  few  seconds ;  then  I  saw 
my  issue." 

"  Your  issue  ? "  Fleda  murmured. 

"I  remembered  how  you  had  tied  my  hands 
about  saying  a  word  to  Owen." 

Fleda  wondered.  "  And  did  you  remember  the 
little  letter  that,  with  your  hands  tied,  you  still 
succeeded  in  writing  to  him  ?  " 

"  Perfectly ;  my  little  letter  was  a  model  of 
reticence.  What  I  remembered  was  all  that  in 
those  few  words  I  forbade  myself  to  say.  I  had 
been  an  angel  of  delicacy  —  I  had  effaced  myself 
like  a  saint.  It  was  not  for  me  to  have  done  all 
that  and  then  figure  to  such  a  woman  as  having 
done  the  opposite.  Besides,  it  was  none  of  her 
business." 

"  Is  that  what  you  said  to  her  ? "  Fleda  asked. 

"I  said  to  her  that  her  question  revealed  a 
total  misconception  of  the  nature  of  my  present 
relations  with  my  son.  I  said  to  her  that  I  had 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  253 

no  relations  with  him  at  all,  and  that  nothing  had 
passed  between  us  for  months.  I  said  to  her 
that  my  hands  were  spotlessly  clean  of  any 
attempt  to  make  him  make  up  to  you.  I  said  to 
her  that  I  had  taken  from  Poynton  what  I  had  a 
right  to  take,  but  had  done  nothing  else  in  the 
world.  I  was  determined  that  if  I  had  bit  my 
tongue  off  to  oblige  you  I  would  at  least  have  the 
righteousness  that  my  sacrifice  gave  me." 

"And  was  Mrs.  Brigstock  satisfied  with  your 
answer  ? " 

"  She  was  visibly  relieved." 

"It  was  fortunate  for  you,"  said  Fleda,  "that 
she's  apparently  not  aware  of  the  manner  in 
which,  almost  under  her  nose,  you  advertised  me 
to  him  at  Poynton." 

Mrs.  Gereth  appeared  to  recall  that  scene ;  she 
smiled  with  a  serenity  remarkably  effective  as 
showing  how  cheerfully  used  she  had  grown  to 
invidious  allusions  to  it.  "  How  should  she  be 
aware  of  it  ? " 

"  She  would  if  Owen  had  described  your  out- 
break to  Mona." 

"Yes,  but  he  didn't  describe  it.  All  his 
instinct  was  to  conceal  it  from  Mona.  He  was  n't 
conscious,  but  he  was  already  in  love  with  you  !  " 
Mrs.  Gereth  declared. 

Fleda  shook  her  head  wearily.  "  No  —  I  was 
only  in  love  with  him  ! " 


254  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

Here  was  a  faint  illumination  with  which  Mrs. 
Gereth  instantly  mingled  her  fire.  "You  dear 
old  wretch  !  "  she  exclaimed  ;  and  she  again,  with 
ferocity,  embraced  her  young  friend. 

Fleda  submitted  like  a  sick  animal :  she  would 
submit  to  everything  now.  "  Then  what  further 
passed  ? " 

"  Only  that  she  left  me  thinking  she  had  got 
something." 

"  And  what  had  she  got  ? " 

"Nothing  but  her  luncheon.  But  /got  every- 
thing ! " 

"  Everything  ? "  Fleda  quavered. 

Mrs.  Gereth,  struck  apparently  by  something 
in  her  tone,  looked  at  her  from  a  tremendous 
height.  "  Don't  fail  me  now  ! " 

It  sounded  so  like  a  menace  that,  with  a  full 
divination  at  last,  the  poor  girl  fell  weakly  into  a 
chair.  "  What  on  earth  have  you  done  ?  " 

Mrs.  Gereth  stood  there  in  all  the  glory  of 
a  great  stroke.  "  I  Ve  settled  you."  She  filled 
the  room,  to  Fleda's  scared  vision,  with  the  glare 
of  her  magnificence.  "  I  Ve  sent  everything 
back." 

"  Everything  ? "  Fleda  gasped. 

"To  the  smallest  snuff-box.  The  last  load 
went  yesterday.  The  same  people  did  it.  Poor 
little  Ricks  is  empty."  Then  as  if,  for  a  crown- 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  2$$ 

ing  splendor,  to  check  all  deprecation,  "  They  're 
yours,  you  goose ! "  Mrs.  Gereth  concluded,  hold- 
ing up  her  handsome  head  and  rubbing  her  white 
hands.  Fleda  saw  that  there  were  tears  in  her 
deep  eyes. 


XVIII 

SHE  was  slow  to  take  in  the  announcement,  but 
when  she  had  done  so  she  felt  it  to  be  more  than 
her  cup  of  bitterness  would  hold.  Her  bitterness 
was  her  anxiety,  the  taste  of  which  suddenly 
sickened  her.  What  had  she  become,  on  the 
spot,  but  a  traitress  to  her  friend  ?  The  treachery 
increased  with  the  view  of  the  friend's  motive,  a 
motive  magnificent  as  a  tribute  to  her  value. 
Mrs.  Gereth  had  wished  to  make  sure  of  her  and 
had  reasoned  that  there  would  be  no  such  way  as 
by  a  large  appeal  to  her  honor.  If  it  be  true,  as 
men  have  declared,  that  the  sense  of  honor  is 
weak  in  women,  some  of  the  bearings  of  this 
stroke  might  have  thrown  a  light  on  the  question. 
What  was  now,  at  all  events,  put  before  Fleda 
was  that  she  had  been  made  sure  of,  for  the 
greatness  of  the  surrender  imposed  an  obligation 
as  great.  There  was  an  expression  she  had  heard 
used  by  young  men  with  whom  she  danced :  the 
only  word  to  fit  Mrs.  Gereth's  intention  was  that 
Mrs.  Gereth  had  designed  to  "fetch"  her.  It 
was  a  calculated,  it  was  a  crushing  bribe ;  it 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON'  257 

looked  her  in  the  eyes  and  said  simply  :  "  That 's 
what  I  do  for  you  !  "  What  Fleda  was  to  do  in 
return  required  no  pointing  out.  The  sense,  at 
present,  of  how  little  she  had  done  made  her 
almost  cry  aloud  with  pain ;  but  her  first  en- 
deavor, in  the  face  of  the  fact,  was  to  keep  such  a 
cry  from  reaching  her  companion.  How  little 
she  had  done  Mrs.  Gereth  did  n't  yet  know,  and 
possibly  there  would  be  still  some  way  of  turning 
round  before  the  discovery.  On  her  own  side  too 
Fleda  had  almost  made  one  :  she  had  known  she 
was  wanted,  but  she  had  not  after  all  conceived 
how  magnificently  much.  She  had  been  treated 
by  her  friend's  act  as  a  conscious  prize,  but  what 
made  her  a  conscious  prize  was  only  the  power 
the  act  itself  imputed  to  her.  As  high,  bold 
diplomacy  it  dazzled  and  carried  her  off  her  feet. 
She  admired  the  noble  risk  of  it,  a  risk  Mrs. 
Gereth  had  faced  for  the  utterly  poor  creature 
that  the  girl  now  felt  herself.  The  change  it  in- 
stantly wrought  in  her  was,  moreover,  extraordi- 
nary :  it  transformed  at  a  touch  her  emotion  on 
the  subject  of  concessions.  A  few  weeks  earlier 
she  had  jumped  at  the  duty  of  pleading  for  them, 
practically  quarreling  with  the  lady  of  Ricks  for 
her  refusal  to  restore  what  she  had  taken.  She 
had  been  sore  with  the  wrong  to  Owen,  she  had 
bled  with  the  wounds  of  Poynton ;  now  however, 


258  THE    SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

as  she  heard  of  the  replenishment  of  the  void  that 
had  so  haunted  her,  she  came  as  near  sounding 
an  alarm  as  if  from  the  deck  of  a  ship  she  had 
seen  a  person  she  loved  jump  into  the  sea.  Mrs. 
Gereth  had  become  in  a  flash  the  victim ;  poor 
little  Ricks  had  been  laid  bare  in  a  night.  If 
Fleda's  feeling  about  the  old  things  had  taken 
precipitate  form  the  form  would  have  been  a 
frantic  command.  It  was  indeed  for  mere  want 
of  breath  that  she  did  n't  shout :  "  Oh,  stop  them 
—  it 's  no  use  ;  bring  them  back  —  it 's  too  late  !  " 
And  what  most  kept  her  breathless  was  her 
companion's  very  grandeur.  Fleda  distinguished 
as  never  before  the  purity  of  such  a  passion  ;  it 
made  Mrs.  Gereth  august  and  almost  sublime. 
It  was  absolutely  unselfish  —  she  cared  nothing 
for  mere  possession.  She  thought  solely  and 
incorruptibly  of  what  was  best  for  the  things ; 
she  had  surrendered  them  to  the  presumptive 
care  of  the  one  person  of  her  acquaintance  who 
felt  about  them  as  she  felt  herself,  and  whose 
long  lease  of  the  future  would  be  the  nearest 
approach  that  could  be  compassed  to  committing 
them  to  a  museum.  Now  it  was  indeed  that 
Fleda  knew  what  rested  on  her ;  now  it  was  also 
that  she  measured  as  if  for  the  first  time  Mrs. 
Gereth's  view  of  the  natural  influence  of  a  fine 
acquisition.  She  had  adopted  the  idea  of  blowing 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  259 

away  the  last  doubt  of  what  her  young  friend 
would  gain,  of  making  good  still  more  than  she 
was  obliged  to  make  it  the  promise  of  weeks 
before.  It  was  one  thing  for  the  girl  to  have 
heard  that  in  a  certain  event  restitution  would  be 
made ;  it  was  another  for  her  to  see  the  condition, 
with  a  noble  trust,  treated  in  advance  as  per- 
formed, and  to  be  able  to  feel  that  she  should 
have  only  to  open  a  door  to  find  every  old  piece 
in  every  old  corner.  To  have  played  such  a  card 
was  therefore,  practically,  for  Mrs.  Gereth,  to 
have  won  the  game.  Fleda  had  certainly  to 
recognize  that,  so  far  as  the  theory  of  the  matter 
went,  the  game  had  been  won.  Oh,  she  had  been 
made  sure  of ! 

She  couldn't,  however,  succeed  for  so  very 
many  minutes  in  deferring  her  exposure.  "  Why 
did  n't  you  wait,  dearest  ?  Ah,  why  did  n't  you 
wait  ? "  —  if  that  inconsequent  appeal  kept  rising 
to  her  lips  to  be  cut  short  before  it  was  spoken, 
this  was  only  because  at  first  the  humility  of 
gratitude  helped  her  to  gain  time,  enabled  her  to 
present  herself  very  honestly  as  too  overcome  to 
be  clear.  She  kissed  her  companion's  hands, 
she  did  homage  at  her  feet,  she  murmured  soft 
snatches  of  praise,  and  yet  in  the  midst  of  it  all 
was  conscious  that  what  she  really  showed  most 
was  the  wan  despair  at  her  heart.  She  saw  Mrs. 


260  THE  SPOILS   OF  POYNTON 

Gereth's  glimpse  of  this  despair  suddenly  widen, 
heard  the  quick  chill  of  her  voice  pierce  through 
the  false  courage  of  endearments.  "  Do  you 
mean  to  tell  me  at  such  an  hour  as  this  that 
you  Ve  really  lost  him  ?  " 

The  tone  of  the  question  made  the  idea  a  pos- 
sibility for  which  Fleda  had  nothing  from  this 
moment  but  terror.  "I  don't  know,  Mrs.  Ge- 
reth  ;  how  can  I  say  ? "  she  asked.  "  I  Ve  not 
seen  him  for  so  long;  as  I  told  you  just  now,  I 
don't  even  know  where  he  is.  That's  by  no 
fault  of  his,"  she  hurried  on:  "he  would  have 
been  with  me  every  day  if  I  had  consented.  But 
I  made  him  understand,  the  last  time,  that  I  '11 
receive  him  again  only  when  he  's  able  to  show 
me  that  his  release  has  been  complete  and  defi- 
nite. Oh,  he  can't  yet,  don't  you  see,  and  that 's 
why  he  has  n't  been  back.  It 's  far  better  than 
his  coming  only  that  we  should  both  be  miserable. 
When  he  does  come  he  '11  be  in  a  better  position. 
He'll  be  tremendously  moved  by  the  splendid 
thing  you  Ve  done.  I  know  you  wish  me  to  feel 
that  you  Ve  done  it  as  much  for  me  as  for  Owen, 
but  your  having  done  it  for  me  is  just  what  will 
delight  him  most !  When  he  hears  of  it,"  said 
Fleda,  in  desperate  optimism,  "  when  he  hears  of 
it  —  "  There  indeed,  regretting  her  advance,  she 
quite  broke  down.  She  was  wholly  powerless  to 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  26 1 

say  what  Owen  would  do  when  he  heard  of  it. 
"  I  don't  know  what  he  won't  make  of  you  and 
how  he  won't  hug  you !  "  she  had  to  content  her- 
self with  lamely  declaring.  She  had  drawn  Mrs. 
Gereth  to  a  sofa  with  a  vague  instinct  of  pacify- 
ing her  and  still,  after  all,  gaining  time ;  but  it 
was  a  position  in  which  her  great  duped  bene- 
factress, portentously  patient  again  during  this 
demonstration,  looked  far  from  inviting  a  "  hug." 
Fleda  found  herself  tricking  out  the  situation 
with  artificial  flowers,  trying  to  talk  even  herself 
into  the  fancy  that  Owen,  whose  name  she  now 
made  simple  and  sweet,  might  come  in  upon 
them  at  any  moment.  She  felt  an  immense 
need  to  be  understood  and  justified ;  she  averted 
her  face  in  dread  from  all  that  she  might  have  to 
be  forgiven.  She  pressed  on  her  companion's 
arm  as  if  to  keep  her  quiet  till  she  should  really 
know,  and  then,  after  a  minute,  she  poured  out 
the  clear  essence  of  what  in  happier  days  had 
been  her  "  secret."  "  You  must  n't  think  I  don't 
adore  him  when  I  've  told  him  so  to  his  face.  I 
love  him  so  that  I  'd  die  for  him  —  I  love  him  so 
that  it 's  horrible.  Don't  look  at  me  therefore  as 
if  I  had  not  been  kind,  as  if  I  had  not  been  as 
tender  as  if  he  were  dying  and  my  tenderness 
were  what  would  save  him.  Look  at  me  as  if 
you  believe  me,  as  if  you  feel  what  I  've  been 


262  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTOtf 

through.  Darling  Mrs.  Gereth,  I  could  kiss  the 
ground  he  walks  on.  I  have  n't  a  rag  of  pride ; 
I  used  to  have,  but  it 's  gone.  I  used  to  have  a 
secret,  but  every  one  knows  it  now,  and  any  one 
who  looks  at  me  can  say,  I  think,  what 's  the 
matter  with  me.  It 's  not  so  very  fine,  my  secret, 
and  the  less  one  really  says  about  it  the  better ; 
but  I  want  you  to  have  it  from  me  because  I  was 
stiff  before.  I  want  you  to  see  for  yourself  that 
I  've  been  brought  as  low  as  a  girl  can  very  well 
be.  It  serves  me  right,"  Fleda  laughed,  "if  I 
was  ever  proud  and  horrid  to  you  !  I  don't  know 
what  you  wanted  me,  in  those  days  at  Ricks,  to 
do,  but  I  don't  think  you  can  have  wanted  much 
more  than  what  I  've  done.  The  other  day  at 
Maggie's  I  did  things  that  made  me,,  afterwards, 
think  of  you  !  I  don't  know  what  girls  may  do  ; 
but  if  he  does  n't  know  that  there  is  n't  an  inch 
of  me  that  is  n't  his  —  !  "  Fleda  sighed  as  if  she 
could  n't  express  it ;  she  piled  it  up,  as  she  would 
have  said ;  holding  Mrs.  Gereth  with  dilated  eyes, 
she  seemed  to  sound  her  for  the  effect  of  these 
words.  It's  idiotic,"  she  wearily  smiled;  "it's 
so  strange  that  I  'm  almost  angry  for  it,  and  the 
strangest  part  of  all  is  that  it  is  n't  even  happi- 
ness. "  It 's  anguish  —  it  was  from  the  first ; 
from  the  first  there  was  a  bitterness  and  a  kind 
of  dread.  But  I  owe  you  every  word  of  the  truth. 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  263 

You  don't  do  him  justice,  either :  he  's  a  dear,  I 
assure  you  he  's  a  dear.  I  'd  trust  him  to  the 
last  breath ;  I  don't  think  you  really  know  him. 
He's  ever  so  much  cleverer  than  he  makes  a 
show  of ;  he  's  remarkable  in  his  own  shy  way. 
You  told  me  at  Ricks  that  you  wanted  me  to  let 
myself  go,  and  I  've  '  gone  '  quite  far  enough  to 
discover  as  much  as  that,  as  well  as  all  sorts  of 
other  delightful  things  about  him.  You  '11  tell 
me  I  make  myself  out  worse  than  I  am,"  said  the 
girl,  feeling  more  and  more  in  her  companion's 
attitude  a  quality  that  treated  her  speech  as  a 
desperate  rigmarole  and  even  perhaps  as  a  piece 
of  cold  immodesty.  She  wanted  to  make  herself 
out  "bad"  —  it  was  a  part  of  her  justification; 
but  it  suddenly  occurred  to  her  that  such  a  pic- 
ture of  her  extravagance  imputed  a  want  of  gal- 
lantry to  the  young  man.  "  I  don't  care  for 
anything  you  think,"  she  declared,  "  because 
Owen,  don't  you  know,  sees  me  as  I  am.  He  's 
so  kind  that  it  makes  up  for  everything ! " 

This  attempt  at  gayety  was  futile ;  the  silence 
with  which,  for  a  minute,  her  adversary  greeted 
her  troubled  plea  brought  home  to  her  afresh 
that  she  was  on  the  bare  defensive.  "  Is  it  a 
part  of  his  kindness  never  to  come  near  you  ? " 
Mrs.  Gereth  inquired  at  last.  "  Is  it  a  part  of  his 
kindness  to  leave  you  without  an  inkling  of 


264  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

where  he  is  ? "  She  rose  again  from  where  Fleda 
had  kept  her  down  ;  she  seemed  to  tower  there 
in  the  majesty  of  her  gathered  wrong.  "  Is  it  a 
part  of  his  kindness  that,  after  I  've  toiled  as  I  Ve 
done  for  six  days,  and  with  my  own  weak  hands, 
which  I  haven't  spared,  to  denude  myself,  in 
your  interest,  to  that  point  that  I  Ve  nothing 
left,  as  I  may  say,  but  what  I  have  on  my  back  — 
is  it  a  part  of  his  kindness  that  you  're  not  even 
able  to  produce  him  for  me  ? " 

There  was  a  high  contempt  in  this  which  was 
for  Owen  quite  as  much,  and  in  the  light  of  which 
Fleda  felt  that  her  effort  at  plausibility  had  been 
mere  groveling.  She  rose  from  the  sofa  with  an 
humiliated  sense  of  rising  from  ineffectual  knees. 
That  discomfort,  however,  lived  but  an  instant : 
it  was  swept  away  in  a  rush  of  loyalty  to  the 
absent.  She  herself  could  bear  his  mother's 
scorn ;  but  to  avert  it  from  his  sweet  innocence 
she  broke  out  with  a  quickness  that  was  like  the 
raising  of  an  arm.  "Don't  blame  him  —  don't 
blame  him  :  he  'd  do  anything  on  earth  for  me ! 
It  was  I,"  said  Fleda,  eagerly,  "who  sent  him 
back  to  her ;  I  made  him  go  ;  I  pushed  him  out 
of  the  house  ;  I  declined  to  have  anything  to  say 
to  him  except  on  another  footing." 

Mrs.  Gereth  stared  as  at  some  gross  material  rav- 
age. "  Another  footing  ?  What  other  footing  ?  " 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  26$ 

"  The  one  I  Ve  already  made  so  clear  to  you : 
my  having  it  in  black  and  white,  as  you  may  say, 
from  her  that  she  freely  gives  him  up." 

"Then  you  think  he  lies  when  he  tells  you 
that  he  has  recovered  his  liberty  ?  " 

Fleda  hesitated  a  moment ;  after  which  she  ex- 
claimed with  a  certain  hard  pride  :  "  He 's  enough 
in  love  with  me  for  anything  !  " 

"  For  anything,  apparently,  except  to  act  like  a 
man  and  impose  his  reason  and  his  will  on  your 
incredible  folly.  For  anything  except  to  put  an 
end,  as  any  man  worthy  of  the  name  would  have 
put  it,  to  your  systematic,  to  your  idiotic  perver- 
sity. What  are  you,  after  all,  my  dear,  I  should 
like  to  know,  that  a  gentleman  who  offers  you 
what  Owen  offers  should  have  to  meet  such 
wonderful  exactions,  to  take  such  extraordinary 
precautions  about  your  sweet  little  scruples?" 
Her  resentment  rose  to  a  strange  insolence  which 
Fleda  took  full  in  the  face  and  which,  for  the 
moment  at  least,  had  the  horrible  force  to  present 
to  her  vengefully  a  showy  side  of  the  truth.  It 
gave  her  a  blinding  glimpse  of  lost  alternatives. 
"  I  don't  know  what  to  think  of  him,"  Mrs. 
Gereth  went  on  ;  "I  don't  know  what  to  call  him  : 
I  'm  so  ashamed  of  him  that  I  can  scarcely  speak 
of  him  even  to  you.  But  indeed  I  'm  so  ashamed 
of  you  both  together  that  I  scarcely  know  in 


266  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

common  decency  where  to  look."  She  paused  to 
give  Fleda  the  full  benefit  of  this  remarkable 
statement ;  then  she  exclaimed  :  "  Any  one  but  a 
jackass  would  have  tucked  you  under  his  arm 
and  marched  you  off  to  the  Registrar  !  " 

Fleda  wondered  ;  with  her  free  imagination 
she  could  wonder  even  while  her  cheek  stung 
from  a  slap.  "  To  the  Registrar  ? " 

"That  would  have  been  the  sane,  sound,  im- 
mediate course  to  adopt.  With  a  grain  of  gump- 
tion you  'd  both  instantly  have  felt  it.  /  should 
have  found  a  way  to  take  you,  you  know,  if  I  'd 
been  what  Owen 's  supposed  to  be.  /  should 
have  got  the  business  over  first ;  the  rest  could 
come  when  you  liked  !  Good  God,  girl,  your 
place  was  to  stand  before  me  as  a  woman  honestly 
married.  One  does  n't  know  what  one  has  hold 
of  in  touching  you,  and  you  must  excuse  my  say- 
ing that  you  're  literally  unpleasant  to  me  to 
meet  as  you  are.  Then  at  least  we  could  have 
talked,  and  Owen,  if  he  had  the  ghost  of  a  sense 
of  humor,  could  have  snapped  his  fingers  at  your 
refinements." 

This  stirring  speech  affected  our  young  lady  as 
if  it  had  been  the  shake  of  a  tambourine  borne 
towards  her  from  a  gypsy  dance :  her  head 
seemed  to  go  round  and  she  felt  a  sudden  passion 
in  her  feet.  The  emotion,  however,  was  but 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  267 

meagrely  expressed  in  the  flatness  with  which  she 
heard  herself  presently  say :  "  I  '11  go  to  the 
Registrar  now." 

"  Now  ?  "  Magnificent  was  the  sound  Mrs. 
Gereth  threw  into  this  monosyllable.  "And 
pray  who  's  to  take  you  ?  "  Fleda  gave  a  color- 
less smile,  and  her  companion  continued  :  "  Do 
you  literally  mean  that  you  can't  put  your  hand 
upon  him  ? "  Fleda's  wan  grimace  appeared  to 
irritate  her ;  she  made  a  short,  imperious  gesture. 
"  Find  him  for  me,  you  fool  — find  him  for  me  !  " 

"  What  do  you  want  of  him,"  Fleda  sadly 
asked,  "  feeling  as  you  do  to  both  of  us  ?  " 

"  Never  mind  how  I  feel,  and  never  mind  what 
I  say  when  I  'm  furious  !  "  Mrs.  Gereth  still  more 
incisively  added.  "  Of  course  I  cling  to  you,  you 
wretches,  or  I  should  n't  suffer  as  I  do.  What  I 
want  of  him  is  to  see  that  he  takes  you  ;  what  I 
want  of  him  is  to  go  with  you  myself  to  the 
place."  She  looked  round  the  room  as  if,  in 
feverish  haste,  for  a  mantle  to  catch  up  ;  she 
bustled  to  the  window  as  if  to  spy  out  a  cab  :  she 
would  allow  half  an  hour  for  the  job.  Already  in 
her  bonnet,  she  had  snatched  from  the  sofa  a  gar- 
ment for  the  street :  she  jerked  it  on  as  she  came 
back.  "Find  him,  find  him,"  she  repeated  ; 
"  come  straight  out  with  me,  to  try,  at  least,  to 
get  at  him  ! " 


268  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

"  How  can  I  get  at  him  ?  He  '11  come  when 
he  's  ready,"  Fleda  replied. 

Mrs.  Gereth  turned  on  her  sharply.  "Ready 
for  what  ?  Ready  to  see  me  ruined  without  a 
reason  or  a  reward  ?  " 

Fleda  was  silent ;  the  worst  of  it  all  was  that 
there  was  something  unspoken  between  them. 
Neither  of  them  dared  to  utter  it,  but  the  in- 
fluence of  it  was  in  the  girl's  tone  when  she 
returned  at  last,  with  great  gentleness :  "  Don't 
be  harsh  to  me  —  I'm  very  unhappy."  The 
words  produced  a  visible  impression  on  Mrs. 
Gereth,  who  held  her  face  averted  and  sent  off 
through  the  window  a  gaze  that  kept  pace  with 
the  long  caravan  of  her  treasures.  Fleda  knew 
she  was  watching  it  wind  up  the  avenue  of  Poyn- 
ton  —  Fleda  participated  indeed  fully  in  the 
vision  ;  so  that  after  a  little  the  most  consoling 
thing  seemed  to  her  to  add  :  "  I  don't  see  why  in 
the  world  you  take  so  for  granted  that  he's,  as 
you  say,  '  lost.' ' 

Mrs.  Gereth  continued  to  stare  out  of  the  win- 
dow, and  her  stillness  denoted  some  success  in 
controlling  herself.  "  If  he 's  not  lost,  why  are 
you  unhappy  ? " 

"  I  'm  unhappy  because  I  torment  you,  and  you 
don't  understand  me." 

"  No,  Fleda,  I  don't  understand  you,"  said  Mrs. 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  269 

Gereth,  finally  facing  her  again.  "  I  don't  under- 
stand you  at  all,  and  it 's  as  if  you  and  Owen  were 
of  quite  another  race  and  another  flesh.  You 
make  me  feel  very  old-fashioned  and  simple  and 
bad.  But  you  must  take  me  as  I  am,  since  you 
take  so  much  else  with  me  ! "  She  spoke  now 
with  the  drop  of  her  resentment,  with  a  dry  and 
weary  calm.  "  It  would  have  been  better  for  me 
if  I  had  never  known  you,"  she  pursued,  "and  cer- 
tainly better  if  I  had  n't  taken  such  an  extraordi- 
nary fancy  to  you.  But  that  too  was  inevitable : 
everything,  I  suppose,  is  inevitable.  It  was  all 
my  own  doing  —  you  did  n't  run  after  me  :  I 
pounced  on  you  and  caught  you  up.  You  're  a 
stiff  little  beggar,  in  spite  of  your  pretty  manners  : 
yes,  you're  hideously  misleading.  I  hope  you 
feel  how  handsome  it  is  of  me  to  recognize  the 
independence  of  your  character.  It  was  your 
clever  sympathy  that  did  it  —  your  extraordinary 
feeling  for  those  accursed  vanities.  You  were 
sharper  about  them  than  any  one  I  had  ever 
known,  and  that  was  a  thing  I  simply  couldn't 
resist.  Well,"  the  poor  lady  concluded  after  a 
pause,  "  you  see  where  it  has  landed  us  ! " 

"  If  you  '11  go  for  him  yourself,  I  '11  wait  here," 
said  Fleda. 

Mrs.  Gereth,  holding  her  mantle  together, 
appeared  for  a  while ,  to  consider. 


270  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

"To  his  club,  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Is  n't  it  there,  when  he 's  in  town,  that  he 
has  a  room  ?  He  has  at  present  no  other  Lon- 
don address,"  Fleda  said  :  "it 's  there  one  writes 
to  him." 

"  How  do  /  know,  with  my  wretched  relations 
with  him  ?"  Mrs.  Gereth  asked. 

"Mine  have  not  been  quite  so  bad  as  that," 
Fleda  desperately  smiled.  Then  she  added  : 
"  His  silence,  her  silence,  our  hearing  nothing  at 
all  —  what  are  these  but  the  very  things  on  which, 
at  Poynton  and  at  Ricks,  you  rested  your  assur- 
ance that  everything  is  at  an  end  between 
them  ? " 

Mrs.  Gereth  looked  dark  and  void.  "  Yes,  but 
I  hadn't  heard  from  you  then  that  you  could 
invent  nothing  better  than,  as  you  call  it,  to  send 
him  back  to  her.'* 

"  Ah,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  you  've  learned 
from  them  what  you  did  n't  know  —  you  've 
learned  by  Mrs.  Brigstock's  visit  that  he  cares 
for  me."  Fleda  found  herself  in  the  position 
of  availing  herself  of  optimistic  arguments  that 
she  formerly  had  repudiated ;  her  refutation 
of  her  companion,  had  completely  changed  its 
ground. 

She  was  in  a  fever  of  ingenuity  and  painfully 
conscious,  on  behalf  of  her  success,  that  her  fever 


THE   SPOILS   OF  POYNTON  2/1 

was  visible.  She  could  herself  see  the  reflection 
of  it  glitter  in  Mrs.  Gereth's  sombre  eyes. 

"You  plunge  me  in  stupefaction,"  that  lady 
answered,  "  and  at  the  same  time  you  terrify  me. 
Your  account  of  Owen  is  inconceivable,  and  yet 
I  don't  know  what  to  hold  on  by.  He  cares  for 
you,  it  does  appear,  and  yet  in  the  same  breath 
you  inform  me  that  nothing  is  more  possible  than 
that  he's  spending  these  days  at  Waterbath. 
Excuse  me  if  I  'm  so  dull  as  not  to  see  my  way 
in  such  darkness.  If  he 's  at  Waterbath  he 
does  n't  care  for  you.  If  he  cares  for  you  he 's 
not  at  Waterbath." 

"  Then  where  is  he  ?  "  poor  Fleda  helplessly 
wailed.  She  caught  herself  up,  however;  she 
did  her  best  to  be  brave  and  clear.  Before  Mrs. 
Gereth  could  reply,  with  due  obviousness,  that 
this  was  a  question  for  her  not  to  ask,  but  to 
answer,  she  found  an  air  of  assurance  to  say : 
"  You  simplify  far  too  much.  You  always  did 
and  you  always  will.  The  tangle  of  life  is  much 
more  intricate  than  you  've  ever,  I  think,  felt  it  to 
be.  You  slash  into  it,"  cried  Fleda  finely,  "  with 
a  great  pair  of  shears,  you  nip  at  it  as  if  you  were 
one  of  the  Fates  !  If  Owen 's  at  Waterbath  he  's 
there  to  wind  everything  up." 

Mrs.  Gereth  shook  her  head  with  slow  auster- 
ity. "  You  don't  believe  a  word  you  're  saying. 


2/2  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

I  've  frightened  you,  as  you  've  frightened  me : 
you  're  whistling  in  the  dark  to  keep  up  our 
courage.  I  do  simplify,  doubtless,  if  to  simplify 
is  to  fail  to  comprehend  the  insanity  of  a  passion 
that  bewilders  a  young  blockhead  with  bugaboo 
barriers,  with  hideous  and  monstrous  sacrifices. 
I  can  only  repeat  that  you  're  beyond  me.  Your 
perversity's  a  thing  to  howl  over.  However," 
the  poor  woman  continued  with  a  break  in  her 
voice,  a  long  hesitation  and  then  the  dry  triumph 
of  her  will,  "  I  '11  never  mention  it  to  you  again  ! 
Owen  I  can  just  make  out ;  for  Owen  is  a  block- 
head. Owen 's  a  blockhead,"  she  repeated  with  a 
quiet,  tragic  finality,  looking  straight  into  Fleda's 
eyes.  "  I  don't  know  why  you  dress  up  so  the 
fact  that  he's  disgustingly  weak." 

Fleda  hesitated ;  at  last,  before  her  com- 
panion's, she  lowered  her  look.  "  Because  I  love 
him.  It's  because  he  's  weak  that  he  needs  me," 
she  added. 

"That  was  why  his  father,  whom  he  exactly 
resembles,  needed  me.  And  I  did  n't  fail  his 
father,"  said  Mrs.  Gereth.  She  gave  Fleda  a 
moment  to  appreciate  the  remark  ;  after  which 
she  pursued :  "  Mona  Brigstock  is  n't  weak ; 
she 's  stronger  than  you  !  " 

"I  never  thought  she  was  weak,"  Fleda  an- 
swered. She  looked  vaguely  round  the  room 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  273 

with  a  new  purpose :  she  had  lost  sight  of  her 
umbrella. 

"  I  did  tell  you  to  let  yourself  go,  but  it 's  clear 
enough  that  you  really  haven't,"  Mrs.  Gereth 
declared.  "  If  Mona  has  got  him  —  " 

Fleda  had  accomplished  her  search  ;  her  inter- 
locutress paused.  "  If  Mona  has  got  him  ?  "  the 
girl  inquired,  tightening  the  umbrella. 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Gereth  profoundly,  "  it  will 
be  clear  enough  that  Mona  has'1 

"  Has  let  herself  go  ? " 

"  Has  let  herself  go."  Mrs.  Gereth  spoke  as 
if  she  saw  it  in  every  detail. 

Fleda  felt  the  tone  and  finished  her  prepara- 
tion ;  then  she  went  and  opened  the  door. 
"We'll  look  for  him  together,"  she  said  to  her 
friend,  who  stood  a  moment  taking  in  her  face. 
"They  may  know  something  about  him  at  the 
Colonel's." 

"We'll  go  there."  Mrs.  Gereth  had  picked 
up  her  gloves  and  her  purse.  "But  the  first 
thing,"  she  went  on,  "  will  be  to  wire  to  Poyn- 
ton." 

"Why  not  to  Waterbath  at  once?"  Fleda 
asked. 

Her  companion  hesitated.     "  In  your  name  ? " 
"  In    my  name.     I  noticed    a    place    at    the 


corner." 


2/4  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

While  Fleda  held  the  door  open  Mrs.  Gereth 
drew  on  her  gloves.  "  Forgive  me,"  she  pres- 
ently said.  "Kiss  me,"  she  added. 

Fleda,  on  the  threshold,  kissed  her ;  then  they 
went  out. 


XIX 

IN  the  place  at  the  corner,  on  the  chance  of  its 
saving  time,  Fleda  wrote  her  telegram  —  wrote 
it  in  silence  under  Mrs.  Gereth's  eye  and  then  in 
silence  handed  it  to  her.  "  I  send  this  to  Water- 
bath,  on  the  possibility  of  your  being  there,  to 
ask  you  to  come  to  me."  Mrs.  Gereth  held  it  a 
moment,  read  it  more  than  once  ;  then  keeping 
it,  and  with  her  eyes  on  her  companion,  seemed 
to  consider.  There  was  the  dawn  of  a  kindness 
in  her  look  ;  Fleda  perceived  in  it,  as  if  as  the 
reward  of  complete  submission,  a  slight  relaxa- 
tion of  her  rigor. 

"Wouldn't  it  perhaps  after  all  be  better,"  she 
asked,  "  before  doing  this,  to  see  if  we  can  make 
his  whereabouts  certain  ? " 

"Why  so?  It  will  be  always  so  much  done," 
said  Fleda.  "  Though  I  'm  poor,"  she  added 
with  a  smile,  "  I  don't  mind  the  shilling." 

"  The  shilling 's  my  shilling,"  said  Mrs.  Gereth. 

Fleda  stayed  her  hand.  "No,  no — I'm  su- 
perstitious." 

"  Superstitious  ? " 


2/6  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

"  To  succeed,  it  must  be  all  me !  " 

"  Well,  if  that  will  make  it  succeed  ! "  Mrs. 
Gereth  took  back  her  shilling,  but  she  still  kept 
the  telegram.  "  As  he 's  most  probably  not 
there  —  " 

"  If  he  should  n't  be  there,"  Fleda  interrupted, 
"there  will  be  no  harm  done." 

"  If  he  '  should  n't  be  '  there ! "  Mrs.  Gereth 
ejaculated.  "Heaven  help  us,  how  you  assume 
it!" 

"  I  'm  only  prepared  for  the  worst.  The  Brig- 
stocks  will  simply  send  any  telegram  on." 

"  Where  will  they  send  it  ? " 

"  Presumably  to  Poynton." 

"They  '11  read  it  first,"  said  Mrs.  Gereth. 

"Read  it?" 

"  Yes,  Mona  will.  She  '11  open  it  under  the 
pretext  of  having  it  repeated ;  and  then  she  '11 
probably  do  nothing.  She  '11  keep  it  as  a  proof 
of  your  immodesty." 

"  What  of  that  ?  "  asked  Fleda. 

"  You  don't  mind  her  seeing  it  ?  " 

Rather  musingly  and  absently  Fleda  shook  her 
head.  "  I  don't  mind  anything." 

"Well,  then,  that's  all  right,"  said  Mrs.  Gereth 
as  if  she  had  only  wanted  to  feel  that  she  had 
been  irreproachably  considerate.  After  this  she 
was  gentler  still,  but  she  had  another  point  to 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  2/7 

clear  up.  "Why  have  you  given,  for  a  reply, 
your  sister's  address  ?  " 

"  Because  if  he  does  come  to  me  he  must  come 
to  me  there.  If  that  telegram  goes,"  said  Fleda, 
"  I  return  to  Maggie's  to-night." 

Mrs.  Gereth  seemed  to  wonder  at  this.  "  You 
won't  receive  him  here  with  me  ? "  . 

"  No,  I  won't  receive  him  here  with  you.  Only 
where  I  received  him  last  —  only  there  again." 
She  showed  her  companion  that  as  to  that  she 
was  firm. 

But  Mrs.  Gereth  had  obviously  now  had  some 
practice  in  following  queer  movements  prompted 
by  queer  feelings.  She  resigned  herself,  though 
she  fingered  the  paper  a  moment  longer.  She 
appeared  to  hesitate ;  then  she  brought  out : 
"  You  could  n't  then,  if  I  release  you,  make  your 
message  a  little  stronger  ?" 

Fleda  gave  her  a  faint  smile.  "  He  '11  come  if 
he  can." 

Mrs.  Gereth  met  fully  what  this  conveyed  ; 
with  decision  she  pushed  in  the  telegram.  But 
she  laid  her  hand  quickly  upon  another  form  and 
with  still  greater  decision  wrote  another  message. 
"  From  me,  this,"  she  said  to  Fleda  when  she 
had  finished  :  "  to  catch  him  possibly  at  Poynton. 
Will  you  read  it  ?  " 

Fleda  turned  away.     "  Thank  you." 


278  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

"  It 's  stronger  than  yours." 

"  I  don't  care,"  said  Fleda,  moving  to  the  door. 
Mrs.  Gereth,  having  paid  for  the  second  missive, 
rejoined  her,  and  they  drove  together  to  Owen's 
club,  where  the  elder  lady  alone  got  out.  Fleda, 
from  the  hansom,  watched  through  the  glass 
dooiis  her  brief  conversation  with  the  hall-porter 
and  then  met  in  silence  her  return  with  the  news 
that  he  had  not  seen  Owen  for  a  fortnight  and 
was  keeping  his  letters  till  called  for.  These 
had  been  the  last  orders ;  there  were  a  dozen 
letters  lying  there.  He  had  no  more  information 
to  give,  but  they  would  see  what  they  could  find 
at  Colonel  Gereth's.  To  any  connection  with 
this  inquiry,  however,  Fleda  now  roused  herself 
to  object,  and  her  friend  had  indeed  to  recognize 
that  on  second  thoughts  it  could  n't  be  quite  to 
the  taste  of  'either  of  them  to  advertise  in  the 
remoter  reaches  of  the  family  that  they  had  for- 
feited the  confidence  of  the  master  of  Poynton. 
The  letters  lying  at  the  club  proved  effectively 
that  he  was  not  in  London,  and  this  was  the 
question  that  immediately  concerned  them.  No- 
thing could  concern  them  further  till  the  answers 
to  their  telegrams  should  have  had  time  to  arrive. 
Mrs.  Gereth  had  got  back  into  the  cab,  and,  still 
at  the  door  of  the  club,  they  sat  staring  at  their 
need  of  patience.  Fleda's  eyes  rested,  in  the 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  279 

great  hard  street,  on  passing  figures  that  struck 
her  as  puppets  pulled  by  strings.  After  a  little 
the  driver  challenged  them  through  the  hole  in 
the  top.  "  Anywhere  in  particular,  ladies  ?  " 

Fleda  decided.     "  Drive  to  Euston,  please." 

"  You  won't  wait  for  what  we  may  hear  ? " 
Mrs.  Gereth  asked. 

"Whatever  we  hear,  I  must  go."  As  the  cab 
went  on  she  added  :  "  But  I  need  n't  drag  you  to 
the  station." 

Mrs.  Gereth  was  silent  a  moment ;  then  "  Non- 
sense !  "  she  sharply  replied. 

In  spite  of  this  sharpness  they  were  now 
almost  equally  and  almost  tremulously  mild ; 
though  their  mildness  took  mainly  the  form  of 
an  inevitable  sense  of  nothing  left  to  say.  It 
was  the  unsaid  that  occupied  them  —  the  thing 
that  for  more  than  an  hour  they  had  been  going 
round  and  round  without  naming  it.  Much  too 
early  for  Fleda's  train,  they  encountered  at  the 
station  a  long  half-hour  to  wait.  Fleda  made  no 
further  allusion  to  Mrs.  Gereth's  leaving  her; 
their  dumbness,  with  the  elapsing  minutes,  grew 
to  be  in  itself  a  reconstituted  bond.  They  slowly 
paced  the  great  gray  platform,  and  presently 
Mrs.  Gereth  took  the  girl's  arm  and  leaned  on  it 
with  a  hard  demand  for  support.  It  seemed  to 
Fleda  not  difficult  for  each  to  know  of  what  the 


280  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

other  was  thinking  —  to  know  indeed  that  they 
had  in  common  two  alternating  visions,  one  of 
which,  at  moments,  brought  them  as  by  a  com- 
mon impulse  to  a  pause.  This  was  the  one  that 
was  fixed ;  the  other  filled  at  times  the  whole 
space  and  then  was  shouldered  away.  Owen  and 
Mona  glared  together  out  of  the  gloom  and 
disappeared,  but  the  replenishment  of  Poynton 
made  a  shining,  steady  light.  The  old  splendor 
was  there  again,  the  old  things  were  in  their 
places.  Our  friends  looked  at  them  with  an 
equal  yearning;  face  to  face,  on  the  platform, 
they  counted  them  in  each  other's  eyes.  Fleda 
had  come  back  to  them  by  a  road  as  strange  as 
the  road  they  themselves  had  followed.  The 
wonder  of  their  great  journeys,  the  prodigy  of 
this  second  one,  was  the  question  that  made  her 
occasionally  stop.  Several  times  she  uttered  it, 
asked  how  this  and  that  difficulty  had  been  met. 
Mrs.  Gereth  replied  with  pale  lucidity  —  was 
naturally  the  person  most  familiar  with  the  truth 
that  what  she  undertook  was  always  somehow 
achieved.  To  do  it  was  to  do  it  —  she  had  more 
than  one  kind  of  magnificence.  She  confessed 
there,  audaciously  enough,  to  a  sort  of  arrogance 
of  energy,  and  Fleda,  going  on  again,  her  inquiry 
more  than  answered  and  her  arm  rendering  ser- 
vice, flushed,  in  her  diminished  identity,  with  the 
sense  that  such  a  woman  was  great. 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  28 1 

"  You  do  mean  literally  everything,  to  the  last 
little  miniature  on  the  last  little  screen  ? " 

"  I  mean  literally  everything.  Go  over  them 
with  the  catalogue  !  " 

Fleda  went  over  them  while  they  walked  again ; 
she  had  no  need  of  the  catalogue.  At  last  she 
spoke  once  more  :  "  Even  the  Maltese  cross  ?  " 

"Even  the  Maltese  cross.  Why  not  that  as 
well  as  everything  else  ?  —  especially  as  I  remem- 
bered how  you  like  it." 

Finally,  after  an  interval,  the  girl  exclaimed : 
"  But  the  mere  fatigue  of  it,  the  exhaustion  of 
such  a  feat !  I  drag  you  to  and  fro  here  while 
you  must  be  ready  to  drop." 

"I'm  very,  very  tired."  Mrs.  Gereth's  slow 
head-shake  was  tragic.  "  I  could  n't  do  it  again." 

"  I  doubt  if  they  'd  bear  it  again  !  " 

"  That 's  another  matter :  they  'd  bear  it  if  I 
could.  There  won't  have  been,  this  time  either, 
a  shake  or  a  scratch.  But  I'm  too  tired  —  I 
very  nearly  don't  care." 

"You  must  sit  down,  then,  till  I  go,"  said 
Fleda.  "  We  must  find  a  bench." 

"  No.  I  'm  tired  of  them :  I  'm  not  tired  of 
you.  This  is  the  way  for  you  to  feel  most  how 
much  I  rest  on  you."  Fleda  had  a  compunction, 
wondering  as  they  continued  to  stroll  whether  it 
was  right  after  all  to  leave  her.  She  believed, 


282  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

however,  that  if  the  flame  might  for  the  moment 
burn  low,  it  was  far  from  dying  out ;  an  impres- 
sion presently  confirmed  by  the  way  Mrs.  Gereth 
went  on :  "  But  one's  fatigue  is  nothing.  The 
idea  under  which  one  worked  kept  one  up.  For 
you  I  could — I  can  still.  Nothing  will  have  mat- 
tered if  she  's  not  there." 

There  was  a  question  that  this  imposed,  but 
Fleda  at  first  found  no  voice  to  utter  it :  it  was 
the  thing  that,  between  them,  since  her  arrival, 
had  been  so  consciously  and  vividly  unsaid.  Fi- 
nally she  was  able  to  breathe  :  "  And  if  she  is 
there  --  if  she 's  there  already  ? " 

Mrs.  Gereth's  rejoinder  too  hung  back ;  then 
when  it  came  —  from  sad  eyes  as  well  as  from 
lips  barely  moved  —  it  was  unexpectedly  merci- 
ful. "  It  will  be  very  hard."  That  was  all,  now ; 
and  it  was  poignantly  simple.  The  train  Fleda 
was  to  take  had  drawn  up  ;  the  girl  kissed  her  as 
if  in  farewell.  Mrs.  Gereth  submitted,  then  after 
a  little  brought  out :  "  If  we  have. lost  —  " 

"  If  we  have  lost  ? "  Fleda  repeated  as  she 
paused  again. 

"You'll  all  the  same  come  abroad  with  me  ? " 

"  It  will  seem  very  strange  to  me  if  you  want 
me.  But  whatever  you  ask,  whatever  you  need, 
that  I  will  always  do." 

"  I  shall  need  your  company,"  said  Mrs.   Ge- 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  283 

reth.  Fleda  wondered  an  instant  if  this  were 
not  practically  a  demand  for  penal  submission  — 
for  a  surrender  that,  in  its  complete  humility, 
would  be  a  long  expiation.  But  there  was  none 
of  the  latent  chill  of  the  vindictive  in  the  way 
Mrs.  Gereth  pursued :  "  We  can  always,  as  time 
goes  on,  talk  of  them  together." 

"  Of  the  old  things  ? "  Fleda  had  selected  a 
third-class  compartment :  she  stood  a  moment 
looking  into  it  and  at  a  fat  woman  with  a  basket 
who  had  already  taken  possession.  "Always?" 
she  said,  turning  again  to  her  companion. 
"  Never  ! "  she  exclaimed.  She  got  into  the  car- 
riage, and  two  men  with  bags  and  boxes  immedi- 
ately followed,  blocking  up  door  and  window  so 
long  that  when  she  was  able  to  look  out  again 
Mrs.  Gereth  had  gone. 


XX 

THERE  came  to  her  at  her  sister's  no  telegram 
in  answer  to  her  own :  the  rest  of  that  day  and 
the  whole  of  the  next  elapsed  without  a  word 
either  from  Owen  or  from  his  mother.  She  was 
free,  however,  to  her  infinite  relief,  from  any 
direct  dealing  with  suspense,  and  conscious,  to 
her  surprise,  of  nothing  that  could  show  her,  or 
could  show  Maggie  and  her  brother-in-law,  that 
she  was  excited.  Her  excitement  was  composed 
of  pulses  as  swift  and  fine  as  the  revolutions  of 
a  spinning  top :  she  supposed  she  was  going 
round,  but  she  went  round  so  fast  that  she 
could  n't  even  feel  herself  move.  Her  emotion 
occupied  some  quarter  of  her  soul  that  had  closed 
its  doors  for  the  day  and  shut  out  even  her  own 
sense  of  it ;  she  might  perhaps  have  heard  some- 
thing if  she  had  pressed  her  ear  to  a  partition. 
Instead  of  that  she  sat  with  her  patience  in  a 
cold,  still  chamber  from  which  she  could  look 
out  in  quite  another  direction.  This  was  to  have 
achieved  an  equilibrium  to  which  she  could  n't 
have  given  a  name :  indifference,  resignation, 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  285 

despair  were  the  terms  of  a  forgotten  tongue. 
The  time  even  seemed  not  long,  for  the  stages  of 
the  journey  were  the  items  of  Mrs.  Gereth's  sur- 
render. The  detail  of  that  performance,  which 
filled  the  scene,  was  what  Fleda  had  now  before 
her  eyes.  The  part  of  her  loss  that  she  could 
think  of  was  the  reconstituted  splendor  of  Poyn- 
ton.  It  was  the  beauty  she  was  most  touched  by 
that,  in  tons,  she  had  lost  —  the  beauty  that, 
charged  upon  big  wagons,  had  safely  crept  back 
to  its  home.  But  the  loss  was  a  gain  to  memory 
and  love ;  it  was  to  her  too,  at  last,  that,  in  con- 
donation of  her  treachery,  the  old  things  had 
crept  back.  She  greeted  them  with  open  arms ; 
she  thought  of  them  hour  after  hour ;  they  made 
a  company  with  which  solitude  was  warm  and  a 
picture  that,  at  this  crisis,  overlaid  poor  Maggie's 
scant  mahogany.  It  was  really  her  obliterated 
passion  that  had  revived,  and  with  it  an  immense 
assent  to  Mrs.  Gereth's  early  judgment  of  her. 
She  too,  she  felt,  was  of  the  religion,  and  like 
any  other  of  the  passionately  pious  she  could 
worship  now  even  in  the  desert.  Yes,  it  was  all 
for  her ;  far  round  as  she  had  gone  she  had  been 
strong  enough  :  her  love  had  gathered  in  the 
spoils.  She  wanted  indeed  no  catalogue  to  count 
them  over;  the  array  of  them,  miles  away,  was 
complete ;  each  piece,  in  its  turn,  was  perfect  to 


286  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

her ;  she  could  have  drawn  up  a  catalogue  from 
memory.  Thus  again  she  lived  with  them,  and 
she  thought  of  them  without  a  question  of  any 
personal  right.  That  they  might  have  been,  that 
they  might  still  be  hers,  that  they  were  perhaps 
already  another's,  were  ideas  that  had  too  little 
to  say  to  her.  They  were  nobody's  at  all  —  too 
proud,  unlike  base  animals  and  humans,  to  be 
reducible  to  anything  so  narrow.  It  was  Poyn- 
ton  that  was  theirs ;  they  had  simply  recovered 
their  own.  The  joy  of  that  for  them  was  the 
source  of  the  strange  peace  in  which  the  girl 
found  herself  floating. 

It  was  broken  on  the  third  day  by  a  telegram 
from  Mrs.  Gereth.  "Shall  be  with  you  at  11.30 
—  don't  meet  me  at  station."  Fleda  turned  this 
over,  but  was  sufficiently  expert  not  to  disobey 
the  injunction.  She  had  only  an  hour  to  take  in 
its  meaning,  but  that  hour  was  longer  than  all 
the  previous  time.  If  Maggie  had  studied  her 
convenience  the  day  Owen  came,  Maggie  was 
also  at  the  present  juncture  a  miracle  of  refine- 
ment. Increasingly  and  resentfully  mystified,  in 
spite  of  all  reassurance,  by  the  impression  that 
Fleda  suffered  more  than  she  gained  from  the 
grandeur  of  the  Gereth  s,  she  had  it  at  heart  to 
exemplify  the  perhaps  truer  distinction  of  nature 
that  characterized  the  house  of  Vetch.  She  was 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  287 

not,  like  poor  Fleda,  at  every  one's  beck,  and  the 
visitor  was  to  see  no  more  of  her  than  what  the 
arrangement  of  luncheon  might  tantalizingly 
show.  Maggie  described  herself  to  her  sister  as 
intending  for  a  just  provocation  even  the  under- 
standing she  had  had  with  her  husband  that  he 
also  should  remain  invisible.  Fleda  accordingly 
awaited  alone  the  subject  of  so  many  manoeuvres 
—  a  period  that  was  slightly  prolonged  even  after 
the  drawing-room  door,  at  11.30,  was  thrown 
open.  Mrs.  Gereth  stood  there  with  a  face  that 
spoke  plain,  but  no  sound  fell  from  her  till  the 
withdrawal  of  the  maid,  whose  attention  had  im- 
mediately attached  itself  to  the  rearrangement 
of  a  window-blind  and  who  seemed,  while  she 
bustled  at  it,  to  contribute  to  the  pregnant  si- 
lence ;  before  the  duration  of  which,  however, 
she  retreated  with  a  sudden  stare. 

"  He  has  done  it,"  said  Mrs.  Gereth,  turning  her 
eyes  avoidingly  but  not  unperceivingly  about  her 
and  in  spite  of  herself  dropping  an  opinion  upon 
the  few  objects  in  the  room.  Fleda,  on  her  side, 
in  her  silence,  observed  how  characteristically 
she  looked  at  Maggie's  possessions  before  look- 
ing at  Maggie's  sister.  The  girl  understood  and 
at  first  had  nothing  to  say  ;  she  was  still  dumb 
while  Mrs.  Gereth  selected,  with  hesitation,  a 
seat  less  distasteful  than  the  one  that  happened 


288  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

to  be  nearest.  On  the  sofa  near  the  window  the 
poor  woman  finally  showed  what  the  two  past 
days  had  done  for  the  age  of  her  face.  Her  eyes 
at  last  met  Fleda's.  "  It 's  the  end." 

"  They  're  married  ?  " 

"They're  married." 

Fleda  came  to  the  sofa  in  obedience  to  the  im- 
pulse to  sit  down  by  her;  then  paused  before 
her  while  Mrs.  Gereth  turned  up  a  dead  gray 
mask.  A  tired  old  woman  sat  there  with  empty 
hands  in  her  lap.  "  I  've  heard  nothing,"  said 
Fleda.  "No  answer  came." 

"  That 's  the  only  answer.  It 's  the  answer  to 
everything."  So  Fleda  saw ;  for  a  minute  she 
looked  over  her  companion's  head  and  far  away. 
"  He  was  n't  at  Waterbath  ;  Mrs.  Brigstock  must 
have  read  your  telegram  and  kept  it.  But  mine, 
the  one  to  Poynton,  brought  something.  '  We 
are  here  —  what  do  you  want  ? ' '  Mrs.  Gereth 
stopped  as  if  with  a  failure  of  voice;  on  which 
Fleda  sank  upon  the  sofa  and  made  a  movement 
to  take  her  hand.  It  met  no  response ;  there 
could  be  no  attenuation.  Fleda  waited ;  they 
sat  facing  each  other  like  strangers.  "  I  wanted 
to  go  down,"  Mrs.  Gereth  presently  continued. 
"  Well,  I  went." 

All  the  girl's  effort  tended  for  the  time  to  a 
single  aim  —  that  of  taking  the  thing  with  out- 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  289 

ward  detachment,  speaking  of  it  as  having  hap- 
pened to  Owen  and  to  his  mother  and  not  in  any 
degree  to  herself.  Something  at  least  of  this 
was  in  the  encouraging  way  she  said  :  "  Yester- 
day morning  ? " 

"Yesterday  morning.     I  saw  him." 

Fleda  hesitated.     "  Did  you  see  her  f  " 

"  Thank  God,  no  ! " 

Fleda  laid  on  her  arm  a  hand  of  vague  comfort, 
of  which  Mrs.  Gereth  took  no  notice.  "  You  've 
been  capable,  just  to  tell  me,  of  this  wretched 
journey,  of  this  consideration  that  I  don't  de- 
serve ? " 

"  We  're  together,  we  're  together,"  said  Mrs. 
Gereth.  She  looked  helpless  as  she  sat  there, 
her  eyes,  unseeingly  enough,  on  a  tall  Dutch 
clock,  old  but  rather  poor,  that  Maggie  had  had 
as  a  wedding-gift  and  that  eked  out  the  bareness 
of  the  room. 

To  Fleda,  in  the  face  of  the  event,  it  appeared 
that  this  was  exactly  what  they  were  not :  the 
last  inch  of  common  ground,  the  ground  of  their 
past  intercourse,  had  fallen  from  under  them. 
Yet  what  was  still  there  was  the  grand  style  of 
her  companion's  treatment  of  her.  Mrs.  Gereth 
could  n't  stand  upon  small  questions,  .could  n't,  in 
conduct,  make  small  differences.  "  You  're  mag- 
nificent ! "  her  young  friend  exclaimed.  "  There 's 
a  rare  greatness  in  your  generosity." 


2QO  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

"We're  together,  we're  together,"  Mrs.  Ge- 
reth  lifelessly  repeated.  "  That  's  all  we  are 
now ;  it 's  all  we  have."  The  words  brought  to 
Fleda  a  sudden  vision  of  the  empty  little  house 
at  Ricks;  such  a  vision  might  also  have  been 
what  her  companion  found  in  the  face  of  the 
stopped  Dutch  clock.  Yet  with  this  it  was  clear 
that  she  would  now  show  no  bitterness  :  she  had 
done  with  that,  had  given  the  last  drop  to  those 
horrible  hours  in  London.  No  passion  even  was 
left  to  her,  and  her  forbearance  only  added  to 
the  force  with  which  she  represented  the  final 
vanity  of  everything. 

Fleda  was  so  far  from  a  wish  to  triumph  that 
she  was  absolutely  ashamed  of  having  anything 
to  say  for  herself;  but  there  was  one  thing,  all 
the  same,  that  not  to  say  was  impossible.  "  That 
he  has  done  it,  that  he  could  n't  not  do  it,  shows 
how  right  I  was."  It  settled  forever  her  attitude, 
and  she  spoke  as  if  for  her  own  mind  ;  then  after 
a  little  she  added  very  gently,  for  Mrs.  Gereth's  : 
"  That 's  to  say,  it  shows  that  he  was  bound  to 
her  by  an  obligation  that,  however  much  he  may 
have  wanted  to,  he  could  n't  in  any  sort  of  honor 
break." 

Blanched  and  bleak,  Mrs.  Gereth  looked  at 
her.  "What  sort  of  an  obligation  do  you  call 
that?  No  such  obligation  exists  for  an  hour 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  2QI 

between  any  man  and  any  woman  who  have 
hatred  on  one  side.  He  had  ended  by  hating 
her,  and  now  he  hates  her  more  than  ever." 

"  Did  he  tell  you  so  ? "  Fleda  asked. 

"  No.  He  told  me  nothing  but  the  great  gawk 
of  a  fact.  I  saw  him  but  for  three  minutes." 
She  was  silent  again,  and  Fleda,  as  before  some 
lurid  image  of  this  interview,  sat  without  speak- 
ing. "Do  you  wish  to  appear  as  if  you  don't 
care  ? "  Mrs.  Gereth  presently  demanded. 

"  I  'm  trying  not  to  think  of  myself." 

"Then  if  you're  thinking  of  Owen,  how  can 
you  bear  to  think  ?" 

Sadly  and  submissively  Fleda  shook  her  head  ; 
the  slow  tears  had  come  into  her  eyes.  "  I  can't. 
I  don't  understand — I  don't  understand!"  she 
broke  out. 

"/  do,  then."  Mrs.  Gereth  looked  hard  at  the 
floor.  "  There  was  no  obligation  at  the  time  you 
saw  him  last  —  when  you  sent  him,  hating  her  as 
he  did,  back  to  her." 

"If  he  went,"  Fleda  asked,  "doesn't  that 
exactly  prove  that  he  recognized  one  ? " 

"  He  recognized  rot !  You  know  what  /  think 
of  him."  %Fleda  knew ;  she  had  no  wish  to  chal- 
lenge a  fresh  statement.  Mrs.  Gereth  made  one 
—  it  was  her  sole,  faint  flicker  of  passion  —  to  the 
extent  of  declaring  that  he  was  too  abjectly  weak 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

to  deserve  the  name  of  a  man.  For  all  Fleda 
cared!  —  it  was  his  weakness  she  loved  in  him. 
"He  took  strange  ways  of  pleasing  you!"  her 
friend  went  on.  "There  was  no  obligation  till 
suddenly,  the  other  day,  the  situation  changed." 

Fleda  wondered.     "  The  other  day  ? " 

"  It  came  to  Mona's  knowledge  —  I  can't  tell 
you  how,  but  it  came  —  that  the  things  I  was 
sending  back  had  begun  to  arrive  at  Poynton.  I 
had  sent  them  for  you,  but  it  was  her  I  touched." 
Mrs.  Gereth  paused ;  Fleda  was  too  absorbed  in 
her  explanation  to  do  anything  but  take  blankly 
the  full,  cold  breath  of  this.  "They  were  there, 
and  that  determined  her." 

"Determined  her  to  what  ? " 

"To  act,  to  take  means." 

"  To  take  means  ? "  Fleda  repeated. 

"  I  can't  tell  you  what  they  were,  but  they  were 
powerful.  She  knew  how,"  said  Mrs.  Gereth. 

Fleda  received  with  the  same  stoicism  the 
quiet  immensity  of  this  allusion  to  the  person 
who  had  not  known  how.  But  it  made  her  think 
a  little,  and  the  thought  found  utterance,  with 
unconscious  irony,  in  the  simple  interrogation : 
"Mona?" 

"Why  not?     She 's  a  brute." 

"  But  if  he  knew  that  so  well,  what  chance  was 
there  in  it  for  her  ? " 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  293 

"  How  can  I  tell  you  ?  How  can  I  talk  of  such 
horrors  ?  I  can  only  give  you,  of  the  situation, 
what  I  see.  He  knew  it,  yes.  But  as  she 
could  n't  make  him  forget  it,  she  tried  to  make 
him  like  it.  She  tried  and  she  succeeded  :  that 's 
what  she  did.  She 's  after  all  so  much  less  of  a 
fool  than  he.  And  what  else  had  he  originally 
liked?"  Mrs.  Gereth  shrugged  her  shoulders. 
"  She  did  what  you  would  n't !  "  Fleda's  face  had 
grown  dark  with  her  wonder,  but  her  friend's 
empty  hands  offered  no  balm  to  the  pain  in  it. 
"It  was  that  if  it  was  anything.  Nothing  else 
meets  the  misery  of  it.  Then  there  was  quick 
work.  Before  he  could  turn  round  he  was 
married." 

Fleda,  as  if  she  had  been  holding  her  breath, 
gave  the  sigh  of  a  listening  child.  "At  that 
place  you  spoke  of  in  town  ? " 

"At  the  Registrar's,  like  a  pair  of  low  athe- 
ists." 

The  girl  hesitated.  "What  do  people  say  of 
that  ?  I  mean  the  *  world.'  " 

"Nothing,  because  nobody  knows.  They're 
to  be  married  on  the  i/th,  at  Waterbath  church. 
If  anything  else  comes  out,  everybody  is  a  little 
prepared.  It  will  pass  for  some  stroke  of  diplo- 
macy, some  move  in  the  game,  some  outwitting  of 
me.  It 's  known  there  has  been  a  row  with  me." 


294  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

Fleda  was  mystified.  "  People  surely  knew  at 
Poynton,"  she  objected,  "if,  as  you  say,  she's 
there." 

"  She  was  there,  day  before  yesterday,  only  for 
a  few  hours.  She  met  him  in  London  and  went 
down  to  see  the  things." 

Fleda  remembered  that  she  had  seen  them 
only  once.  "  Did  you  see  them  ? "  she  then 
ventured  to  ask. 

"Everything." 

"  Are  they  right  ?  " 

"Quite  right.  There's  nothing  like  them," 
said  Mrs.  Gereth.  At  this  her  companion  took 
up  one  of  her  hands  again  and  kissed  it  as  she 
had  done  in  London.  "Mona  went  back  that 
night ;  she  was  not  there  yesterday.  Owen 
stayed  on,"  she  added. 

Fleda  stared.    "Then  she 's  not  to  live  there ? " 

"  Rather  !  But  not  till  after  the  public  mar- 
riage." Mrs.  Gereth  seemed  to  muse ;  then  she 
brought  out :  "  She  '11  live  there  alone." 

"Alone?" 

"She '11  have  it  to  herself." 

"  He  won't  live  with  her  ? " 

"  Never!  But  she 's  none  the  less  his  wife,  and 
you're  not,"  said  Mrs.  Gereth,  getting  up.  "Our 
only  chance  is  the  chance  she  may  die." 

Fleda  appeared  to  consider:   she  appreciated 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  295 

her  visitor's  magnanimous  use  of  the  plural. 
"  Mona  won't  die,"  she  replied. 

"  Well,  /  shall,  thank  God  !  Till  then  "  —  and 
with  this,  for  the  first  time,  Mrs.  Gereth  put  out 
her  hand  —  "don't  desert  me." 

Fleda  took  her  hand,  and  her  clasp  of  it  was  a 
reiteration  of  a  promise  already  given.  She  said 
nothing,  but  her  silence  was  an  acceptance  as 
responsible  as  the  vow  of  a  nun.  The  next 
moment  something  occurred  to  her.  "I  mustn't 
put  myself  in  your  son's  way." 

Mrs.  Gereth  gave  a  dry,  flat  laugh.  "  You  're 
prodigious  !  But  how  shall  you  possibly  be  more 
out  of  it  ?  Owen  and  I  —  "  She  did  n't  finish  her 
sentence. 

" That 's  your  great  feeling  about  him"  Fleda 
said ;  "  but  how,  after  what  has  happened,  can  it 
be  his  about  you  ?" 

Mrs.  Gereth  hesitated.  "  How  do  you  know 
what  has  happened?  You  don't  know  what  I 
said  to  him." 

"  Yesterday  ? " 

"Yesterday." 

They  looked  at  each  other  with  a  long,  deep 
gaze.  Then,  as  Mrs.  Gereth  seemed  again  about 
to  speak,  the  girl,  closing  her  eyes,  made  a 
gesture  of  strong  prohibition.  "  Don't  tell  me  !  " 

"  Merciful   powers,   how   you   worship   him ! " 


296  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

Mrs.  Gereth  wonderingly  moaned.  It  was,  for 
Fleda,  the  shake  that  made  the  cup  overflow. 
She-  had  a  pause,  that  of  the  child  who  takes  time 
to  know  that  he  responds  to  an  accident  with 
pain ;  then,  dropping  again  on  the  sofa,  she  broke 
into  tears.  They  were  beyond  control,  they 
came  in  long  sobs,  which  for  a  moment  Mrs. 
Gereth,  almost  with  an  air  of  indifference,  stood 
hearing  and  watching.  At  last  Mrs.  Gereth  too 
sank  down  again.  Mrs.  Gereth  soundlessly, 
wearily  wept. 


XXI 

"  IT  looks  just  like  Waterbath ;  but,  after  all, 
we  bore  that  together :  "  these  words  formed  part 
of  a  letter  in  which,  before  the  i/th,  Mrs.  Gereth, 
writing  from  disfigured  Ricks,  named  to  Fleda 
the  day  on  which  she  would  be  expected  to  arrive 
there  on  a  second  visit.  "  I  sha'  n't,  for  a  long 
time  to  come,"  the  missive  continued,  "  be  able 
to  receive  any  one  who  may  like  it,  who  would 
try  to  smooth  it  down,  and  me  with  it ;  but  there 
are  always  things  you  and  I  can  comfortably  hate 
together,  for  you  're  the  only  person  who  comfort- 
ably understands.  You  don't  understand  quite 
everything,  but  of  all  my  acquaintance  you  're  far 
away  the  least  stupid.  For  action  you  're  no  good 
at  all ;  but  action  is  over,  for  me,  forever,  and  you 
will  have  the  great  merit  of  knowing,  when  I  'm 
brutally  silent,  what  I  shall  be  thinking  about. 
Without  setting  myself  up  for  your  equal,  I  dare 
say  I  shall  also  know  what  are  your  own  thoughts. 
Moreover,  with  nothing  else  but  my  four  walls, 
you  '11  at  any  rate  be  a  bit  of  furniture.  For  that, 
you  know,  a  little,  I  Ve  always  taken  you  —  quite 


298  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

one  of  my  best  finds.     So  come,  if  possible,  on 
the  1 5th." 

The  position  of  a  bit  of  furniture  was  one  that 
Fleda  could  conscientiously  accept,  and  she  by 
no  means  insisted  on  so  high  a  place  in  the  list. 
This  communication  made  her  easier,  if  only  by 
its  acknowledgment  that  her  friend  had  some 
thing  left :  it  still  implied  recognition  of  the  prin- 
ciple of  property.  Something  to  hate,  and  to 
hate  "  comfortably,"  was  at  least  not  the  utter 
destitution  to  which,  after  their  last  interview, 
she  had  helplessly  seemed  to  see  Mrs.  Gereth  go 
forth.  She  remembered  indeed  that,  in  the  state 
in  which  they  first  saw  it,  she  herself  had  "  liked  " 
the  blessed  refuge  of  Ricks ;  and  she  now  won- 
dered if  the  tact  for  which  she  was  commended 
had  then  operated  to  make  her  keep  her  kindness 
out  of  sight.  She  was  at  present  ashamed  of 
such  obliquity,  and  made  up  her  mind  that  if  this 
happy  impression,  quenched  in  the  spoils  of  Poyn- 
ton,  should  revive  on  the  spot,  she  would  utter  it 
to  her  companion  without  reserve.  Yes,  she  was 
capable  of  as  much  "action"  as  that:  all  the 
more  that  the  spirit  of  her  hostess  seemed,  for 
the  time  at  least,  wholly  to  have  failed.  Mrs. 
Gereth's  three  minutes  with  Owen  had  been  a 
blow  to  all  talk  of  travel,  and  after  her  woeful 
hour  at  Maggie's  she  had,  like  some  great  moan- 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  299 

ing,  wounded  bird,  made  her  way,  with  wings  of 
anguish,  back  to  the  nest  she  knew  she  should 
find  empty.  Fleda,  on  that  dire  day,  could  neither 
keep  her  nor  give  her  up  ;  she  had  pressingly 
offered  to  return  with  her,  but  Mrs.  Gereth,  in 
spite  of  the  theory  that  their  common  grief  was  a 
bond,  had  even  declined  all  escort  to  the  station, 
conscious  apparently  of  something  abject  in  her 
collapse  and  almost  fiercely  eager,  as  with  a  per- 
sonal shame,  to  be  unwatched.  All  she  had  said 
to  Fleda  was  that  she  would  go  back  to  Ricks 
that  night,  and  the  girl  had  lived  for  days  after 
with  a  dreadful  image  of  her  position  and  her 
misery  there.  She  had  had  a  vision  of  her  now 
lying  prone  on  some  unmade  bed,  now  pacing  a 
bare  floor  like  a  lioness  deprived  of  her  cubs. 
There  had  been  moments  when  her  mind's  ear 
was  strained  to  listen  for  some  sound  of  grief 
wild  enough  to  be  wafted  from  afar.  But  the 
first  sound,  at  the  end  of  a  week,  had  been  a  note 
announcing,  without  reflections,  that  the  plan  of 
going  abroad  had  been  abandoned.  "  It  has  come 
to  me  indirectly,  but  with  much  appearance  of 
truth,  that  they are  going  —  for  an  indefinite  time. 
That  quite  settles  it ;  I  shall  stay  where  I  am, 
and  as  soon  as  I  've  turned  round  again  I  shall 
look  for  you."  The  second  letter  had  come  a 
week  later,  and  on  the  I5th  Fleda  was  on  her 
way  to  Ricks. 


3OO  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

Her  arrival  took  the  form  of  a  surprise  very 
nearly  as  violent  as  that  of  the  other  time.  The 
elements  were  different,  but  the  effect,  like  the 
other,  arrested  her  on  the  threshold  :  she  stood 
there  stupefied  and  delighted  at  the  magic  of  a 
passion  of  which  such  a  picture  represented  the 
low-water  mark.  Wound  up  but  sincere,  and 
passing  quickly  from  room  to  room,  Fleda  broke 
out  before  she  even  sat  down.  "  If  you  turn  me 
out  of  the  house  for  it,  my  dear,  there  is  n't  a 
woman  in  England  for  whom  it  would  n't  be  a 
privilege  to  live  here."  Mrs.  Gereth  was  as  hon- 
estly bewildered  as  she  had  of  old  been  falsely 
calm.  She  looked  about  at  the  few  sticks  that, 
as  she  afterwards  phrased  it,  she  had  gathered  in, 
and  then  hard  at  her  guest,  as  if  to  protect  her- 
self against  a  joke  sufficiently  cruel.  The  girl's 
heart  gave  a  leap,  for  this  stare  was  the  sign  of 
an  opportunity.  Mrs.  Gereth  was  all  unwitting  ; 
she  did  n't  in  the  least  know  what  she  had  done, 
and  as  Fleda  could  tell  her  Fleda  suddenly  be- 
came the  one  who  knew  most.  That  counted  for 
the  moment  as  a  magnificent  position  ;  it  almost 
made  all  the  difference.  Yet  what  contradicted 
it  was  the  vivid  presence  of  the  artist's  idea. 
"Where  on  earth  did  you  put  your  hand  on  such 
beautiful  things  ? " 

"  Beautiful  things  ? "    Mrs.  Gereth  turned  again 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  301 

to  the  little  worn,  bleached  stuffs  and  the  sweet 
spindle-legs.  "  They  're  the  wretched  things  that 
were  here  —  that  stupid,  starved  old  woman's." 

"The  maiden  aunt's,  the  nicest,  the  dearest 
old  woman  that  ever  lived  ?  I  thought  you  had 
got  rid  of  the  maiden  aunt." 

"  She  was  stored  in  an  empty  barn  —  stuck 
away  for  a  sale  ;  a  matter  that,  fortunately,  I  've 
had  neither  time  nor  freedom  of  mind  to  arrange. 
I  Ve  simply,  in  my  extremity,  fished  her  out 
again." 

"  You  've  simply,  in  your  extremity,  made  a  de- 
light of  her."  Fleda  took  the  highest  line  and 
the  upper  hand,  and  as  Mrs.  Gereth,  challenging 
her  cheerfulness,  turned  again  a  lustreless  eye 
over  the  contents  of  the  place,  she  broke  into  a 
rapture  that  was  unforced,  but  that  she  was  con- 
scious of  an  advantage  in  being  able  to  feel.  She 
moved,  as  she  had  done  on  the  previous  occasion, 
from  one  piece  to  another,  with  looks  of  recogni- 
tion and  hands  that  lightly  lingered,  but  she  was 
as  feverishly  jubilant  now  as  she  had  formerly 
been  anxious  and  mute.  "  Ah,  the  little  melan- 
choly, tender,  tell-tale  things :  how  can  they  not 
speak  to  you  and  find  a  way  to  your  heart  ?  It 's 
not  the  great  chorus  of  Poynton  ;  but  you  're  not, 
I  'm  sure,  either  so  proud  or  so  broken  as  to  be 
reached  by  nothing  but  that.  This  is  a  voice  so 


302  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTOK 

gentle,  so  human,  so  feminine  —  a  faint,  far-away 
voice  with  the  little  quaver  of  a  heart-break. 
You  Ve  listened  to  it  unawares  ;  for  the  arrange- 
ment and  effect  of  everything  —  when  I  compare 
them  with  what  we  found  the  first  day  we  came 
down  —  shows,  even  if  mechanically  and  disdain- 
fully exercised,  your  admirable,  infallible  hand. 
It 's  your  extraordinary  genius  ;  you  make  things 
'  compose  '  in  spite  of  yourself.  You  Ve  only  to 
be  a  day  or  two  in  a  place  with  four  sticks  for 
something  to  come  of  it !  " 

"Then  if  anything  has  come  of  it  here,  it  has 
come  precisely  of  just  four.  That's  literally,  by 
the  inventory,  all  there  are !  "  said  Mrs.  Gereth. 

"  If  there  were  more  there  would  be  too  many 
to  convey  the  impression  in  which  half  the  beauty 
resides  —  the  impression,  somehow,  of  something 
dreamed  and  missed,  something  reduced,  relin- 
quished, resigned :  the  poetry,  as  it  were,  of 
something  sensibly  gone."  Fleda  ingeniously  and 
triumphantly  worked  it  out.  "  Ah,  there  's  some- 
thing here  that  will  never  be  in  the  inventory  !  " 

"  Does  it  happen  to  be  in  your  power  to  give  it 
a. name?"  Mrs.  Gereth's  face  showed  the  dim 
dawn  of  an  amusement  at  finding  herself  seated 
at  the  feet  of  her  pupil. 

"  I  can  give  it  a  dozen.  It 's  a  kind  of  fourth 
dimension.  It 's  a  presence,  a  perfume,  a  touch. 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  303 

It 's  a  soul,  a  story,  a  life.  There  's  ever  so  much 
more  here  than  you  and  I.  We're  in  fact  just 
three !  " 

"  Oh,  if  you  count  the  ghosts  ! " 

"Of  course  I  count  the  ghosts.  It  seems  to 
me  ghosts  count  double  —  for  what  they  were 
and  for  what  they  are.  Somehow  there  were  no 
ghosts  at  Poynton,"  Fleda  went  on.  "  That  was 
the  only  fault." 

Mrs.  Gereth,  considering,  appeared  to  fall  in 
with  the  girl's  fine  humor.  "  Poynton  was  too 
splendidly  happy." 

"  Poynton  was  too  splendidly  happy,"  Fleda 
promptly  echoed. 

"  But  it 's  cured  of  that  now,"  her  companion 
added. 

"  Yes,  henceforth  there  '11  be  a  ghost  or  two." 

Mrs.  Gereth  thought  again :  she  found  her 
young  friend  suggestive.  "  Only  she  won't  see 
them." 

"No,  'she'  won't  see  them."  Then  Fleda 
said,  ''What  I  mean  is,  for  this  dear  one  of  ours, 
that  if  she  had  (as  I  know  she  did  ;  it 's  in  the 
very  taste  of  the  air  ! )  a  great  accepted  pain  —  " 

She  had  paused  an  instant,  and  Mrs.  Gereth 
took  her  up.  "  Well,  if  she  had  ? " 

Fleda  still  hesitated.  "  Why,  it  was  worse  than 
yours." 


304  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

Mrs.  Gereth  reflected.  "  Very  likely."  Then 
she  too  hesitated.  "The  question  is  if  it  was 
worse  than  yours." 

"  Mine  ? "     Fleda  looked  vague. 

"  Precisely.     Yours." 

At  this  our  young  lady  smiled.  "  Yes,  because 
it  was  a  disappointment.  She  had  been  so  sure." 

"  I  see.     And  you  were  never  sure." 

"  Never.     Besides,  I  'm  happy,"  said  Fleda. 

Mrs.  Gereth  met  her  eyes  awhile.  "  Goose  !  " 
she  quietly  remarked  as  she  turned  away.  There 
was  a  curtness  in  it ;  nevertheless  it  represented 
a  considerable  part  of  the  basis  of  their  new 
life. 

On  the  1 8th  The  Morning  Post  had  at  last  its 
clear  message,  a  brief  account  of  the  marriage, 
from  the  residence  of  the  bride's  mother,  of  Mr. 
Owen  Gereth  of  Poynton  Park  to  Miss  Mona 
Brigstock  of  Waterbath.  There  were  two  eccle- 
siastics and  six  bridesmaids  and,  as  Mrs.  Gereth 
subsequently  said,  a  hundred  frumps,  as  well  as  a 
special  train  from  town :  the  scale  of  the  affair 
sufficiently  showed  that  the  preparations  had 
been  complete  for  weeks.  The  happy  pair  were 
described  as  having  taken  their  departure  for  Mr. 
Gereth's  own  seat,  famous  for  its  unique  collec- 
tion of  artistic  curiosities.  The  newspapers  and 
letters,  the  fruits  of  the  first  London  post,  had 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  305 

been  brought  to  the  mistress  of  Ricks  in  the  gar- 
den ;  and  she  lingered  there  alone  a  long  time 
after  receiving  them.  Fleda  kept  at  a  distance  ; 
she  knew  what  must  have  happened,  for  from  one 
of  the  windows  she  saw  her  rigid  in  a  chair,  her 
eyes  strange  and  fixed,  the  newspaper  open  on 
the  ground  and  the  letters  untouched  in  her  lap. 
Before  the  morning's  end  she  had  disappeared, 
and  the  rest  of  that  day  she  remained  in  her 
room  :  it  recalled  to  Fleda,  who  had  picked  up 
the  newspaper,  the  day,  months  before,  on  which 
Owen  had  come  down  to  Poynton  to  make  his 
engagement  known.  The  hush  of  the  house  was 
at  least  the  same,  and  the  girl's  own  waiting,  her 
soft  wandering,  through  the  hours :  there  was  a 
difference  indeed  sufficiently  great,  of  which  her 
companion's  absence  might  in  some  degree  have 
represented  a  considerate  recognition.  That 
was  at  any  rate  the  meaning  Fleda,  devoutly 
glad  to  be  alone,  attached  to  her  opportu- 
nity. Mrs.  Gereth's  sole  allusion,  the  next  day, 
to  the  subject  of  their  thoughts,  has  already 
been  mentioned :  it  was  a  dazzled  glance  at 
the  fact  that  Mona's  quiet  pace  had  really  never 
slackened. 

Fleda  fully  assented.  "I  said  of  our  disem- 
bodied friend  here  that  she  had  suffered  in  pro- 
portion as  she  had  been  sure.  But  that 's  not 


306  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

always   a   source   of  suffering.     It's  Mona  who 
must  have  been  sure  ! " 

"  She  was  sure  viyou  !  "  Mrs.  Gereth  returned. 
But  this  didn't  diminish  the  satisfaction  taken 
by  Fleda  in  showing  how  serenely  and  lucidly 
she  could  talk. 


XXII 

HER  relation  with  her  wonderful  friend  had, 
however,  in  becoming  a  new  one,  begun  to  shape 
itself  almost  wholly  on  breaches  and  omissions. 
Something  had  dropped  out  altogether,  and  the 
question  between  them,  which  time  would  an- 
swer, was  whether  the  change  had  made  them 
strangers  or  yokefellows.  It  was  as  if  at  last, 
for  better  or  worse,  they  were,  in  a  clearer,  cruder 
air,  really  to  know  each  other.  Fleda  wondered 
how  Mrs.  Gereth  had  escaped  hating  her :  there 
were  hours  when  it  seemed  that  such  a  feat  might 
leave  after  all  a  scant  margin  for  future  accidents. 
The  thing  indeed  that  now  came  out  in  its  sim- 
plicity was  that  even  in  her  shrunken  state  the 
lady  of  Ricks  was  larger  than  her  wrongs.  As 
for  the  girl  herself,  she  had  made  up  her  mind 
that  her  feelings  had  no  connection  with  the 
case.  It  was  her  pretension  that  they  had  never 
yet  emerged  from  the  seclusion  into  which,  after 
her  friend's  visit  to  her  at  her  sister's,  we  saw 
them  precipitately  retire :  if  she  should  suddenly 
meet  them  in  straggling  procession  on  the  road 


308  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

it  would  be  time  enough  to  deal  with  them. 
They  were  all  bundled  there  together,  likes  with 
dislikes  and  memories  with  fears;  and  she  had 
for  not  thinking  of  them  the  excellent  reason 
that  she  was  too  occupied  with  the  actual.  The 
actual  was  not  that  Owen  Gereth  had  seen  his 
necessity  where  she  had  pointed  it  out;  it  was 
that  his  mother's  bare  spaces  demanded  all  the 
tapestry  that  the  recipient  of  her  bounty  could 
furnish.  There  were  moments  during  the  month 
that  followed  when  Mrs.  Gereth  struck  her  as 
still  older  and  feebler,  and  as  likely  to  become 
quite  easily  amused. 

At  the  end  of  it,  bne  day,  the  London  paper 
had  another  piece  of  news  :  "  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Owen 
Gereth,  who  arrived  in  town  last  week,  proceed 
this  morning  to  Paris."  They  exchanged  no 
word  about  it  till  the  evening,  and  none  indeed 
would  then  have  been  uttered  had  not  Mrs.  Ge- 
reth irrelevantly  broken  out :  "  I  dare  say  you 
wonder  why  I  declared  the  other  day  with  such 
assurance  that  he  would  n't  live  with  her.  He 
apparently  is  living  with  her." 

"  Surely  it 's  the  only  proper  thing  for  him 
to  do." 

"  They  're  beyond  me  —  I  give  it  up,"  said 
Mrs.  Gereth. 

"  I  don't  give  it  up  —  I  never  did,"  Fleda 
returned. 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  309 

"  Then  what  do  you  make  of  his  aversion  to 
her?" 

"  Oh,  she  has  dispelled  it." 

Mrs.  Gereth  said  nothing  for  a  minute. 
"  You  're  prodigious  in  your  choice  of  terms  !  " 
she  then  simply  ejaculated. 

But  Fleda  went  luminously  on  ;  she  once  more 
enjoyed  her  great  command  of  her  subject:  "I 
think  that  when  you  came  to  see  me  at  Maggie's 
you  saw  too  many  things,  you  had  too  many 
ideas." 

"  You  had  none,"  said  Mrs.  Gereth :  "  you 
were  completely  bewildered." 

"  Yes,  I  did  n't  quite  understand  —  but  I  think 
I  understand  now.  The  case  is  simple  and  logi- 
cal enough.  She  's  a  person  who  's  upset  by  fail- 
ure and  who  blooms  and  expands  with  success. 
There  was  something  she  had  set  her  heart  upon, 
set  her  teeth  about  —  the  house  exactly  as  she 
had  seen  it." 

"  She  never  saw  it  at  all,  she  never  looked  at 
it !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gereth. 

"She  doesn't  look  with  her  eyes;  she  looks 
with  her  ears.  In  her  own  way  she  had  taken  it 
in  ;  she  knew,  she  felt  when  it  had  been  touched. 
That  probably  made  her  take  an  attitude  that 
was  extremely  disagreeable.  But  the  attitude 
lasted  only  while  the  reason  for  it  lasted." 


310  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

"  Go  on  —  I  can  bear  it  now,"  said  Mrs. 
Gereth.  Her  companion  had  just  perceptibly 
paused. 

"  I  know  you  can,  or  I  should  n't  dream  of 
speaking.  When  the  pressure  was  removed  she 
came  up  again.  From  the  moment  the  house 
was  once  more  what  it  had  to  be,  her  natural 
charm  reasserted  itself." 

"  Her  natural  charm ! "  Mrs.  Gereth  could 
barely  articulate. 

"  It 's  very  great ;  everybody  thinks  so  ;  there 
must  be  something  in  it.  It  operated  as  it  had 
operated  before.  There  's  no  need  of  imagining 
anything  very  monstrous.  Her  restored  good 
humor,  her  splendid  beauty,  and  Mr.  Owen's 
impressibility  and  generosity  sufficiently  cover 
the  ground.  His  great  bright  sun  came  out !  " 

"And  his  great  bright  passion  for  another 
person  went  in.  Your  explanation  would  doubt- 
less be  perfection  if  he  did  n't  love  you." 

Fleda  was  silent  a  little.  "  What  do  you  know 
about  his  'loving'  me  ?  " 

"  I  know  what  Mrs.  Brigstock  herself  told  me.'* 

"You  never  in  your  life  took  her  word  for  any 
other  matter." 

"Then  won't  yours  do?"  Mrs.  Gereth  de- 
manded. "Haven't  I  had  it  from  your  own 
mouth  that  he  cares  for  you  ? " 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

Fleda  turned  pale,  but  she  faced  her  compan- 
ion and  smiled.  "You  confound,  Mrs.  Gereth, 
you  mix  things  up.  You  've  only  had  it  from  my 
own  mouth  that  I  care  for  him  !  " 

It  was  doubtless  in  contradictious  allusion  to 
this  (which  at  the  time  had  made  her  simply  drop 
her  head  as  in  a  strange,  vain  reverie)  that  Mrs. 
Gereth,  a  day  or  two  later,  said  to  Fleda :  "  Don't 
think  I  shall  be  a  bit  affected  if  I  'm  here  to  see 
it  when  he  comes  again  to  make  up  to  you." 

"  He  won't  do  that,"  the  girl  replied.  Then 
she  added,  smiling :  "  But  if  he  should  be  guilty 
of  such  bad  taste,  it  would  n't  be  nice  of  you  not 
to  be  disgusted." 

"  I  'm  not  talking  of  disgust ;  I  'm  talking  of 
its  opposite,"  said  Mrs.  Gereth. 

"  Of  its  opposite  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  any  reviving  pleasure  that  one  might 
feel  in  such  an  exhibition.  I  shall  feel  none  at 
all.  You  may  personally  take  it  as  you  like;  but 
what  conceivable  good  will  it  do  ?  " 

Fleda  wondered.     "  To  me,  do  you  mean  ? " 

"  Deuce  take  you,  no  !  To  what  we  don't,  you 
know,  by  your  wish,  ever  talk  about." 

"  The  old  things  ? "  Fleda  considered  again. 
"  It  will  do  no  good  of  any  sort  to  anything  or 
any  one.  That 's  another  question  I  would  rather 
we  should  n't  discuss,  please,"  she  gently  added. 


312  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

Mrs.  Gereth  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  It  certainly  is  n't  worth  it !  " 

Something  in  her  manner  prompted  her  com- 
panion, with  a  certain  inconsequence,  to  speak 
again.  "That  was  partly  why  I  came  back  to 
you,  you  know  —  that  there  should  be  the  less 
possibility  of  anything  painful." 

"  Painful  ? "  Mrs.  Gereth  stared.  "  What  pain 
can  I  ever  feel  again  ? " 

"  I  meant  painful  to  myself,"  Fleda,  with  a 
slight  impatience,  explained. 

"  Oh,  I  see."  Her  friend  was  silent  a  minute. 
"You  use  sometimes  such  odd  expressions. 
Well,  I  shall  last  a  little,  but  I  sha'  n't  last  for- 
ever." 

"You'll  last  quite  as  long  —  "  Here  Fleda 
suddenly  hesitated. 

Mrs.  Gereth  took  her  up  with  a  cold  smile  that 
seemed  the  warning  of  experience  against  hyper- 
bole. "  As  long  as  what,  please  ?  " 

The  girl  thought  an  instant;  then  met  the 
difficulty  by  adopting,  as  an  amendment,  the 
same  tone.  "  As  any  danger  of  the  ridiculous." 

That  did  for  the  time,  and  she  had  moreover, 
as  the  months  went  on,  the  protection  of  sus- 
pended allusions.  This  protection  was  marked 
when,  in  the  following  November,  she  received 
a  letter  directed  in  a  hand  at  which  a  quick  glance 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  313 

sufficed  to  make  her  hesitate  to  open  it.  She 
said  nothing,  then  or  afterwards ;  but  she  opened 
it,  for  reasons  that  had  come  to  her,  on  the  mor- 
row. It  consisted  of  a  page  and  a  half  from 
Owen  Gereth,  dated  from  Florence,  but  with  no 
other  preliminary.  She  knew  that  during  the 
summer  he  had  returned  to  England  with  his 
wife,  and  that  after  a  couple  of  months  they  had 
again  gone  abroad.  She  also  knew,  without  com- 
munication, that  Mrs.  Gereth,  round  whom  Ricks 
had  grown  submissively  and  indescribably  sweet, 
had  her  own  interpretation  of  her  daughter-in- 
law's  share  in  this  second  migration.  It  was  a 
piece  of  calculated  insolence  —  a  stroke  odiously 
directed  at  showing  whom  it  might  concern  that 
now  she  had  Poynton  fast  she  was  perfectly  in- 
different to  living  there.  The  Morning  Post,  at 
Ricks,  had  again  been  a  resource  :  it  was  stated 
in  that  journal  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Owen  Gereth 
proposed  to  spend  the  winter  in  India.  There 
was  a  person  to  whom  it  was  clear  that  she  led 
her  wretched  husband  by  the  nose.  Such  was 
the  light  in  which  contemporary  history  was 
offered  to  Fleda  until,  in  her  own  room,  late  at 
night,  she  broke  the  seal  of  her  letter. 

"  I  want  you,  inexpressibly,  to  have,  as  a  re- 
membrance, something  of  mine  —  something  of 
real  value.  Something  from  Poynton  is  what  I 


314  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

mean  and  what  I  should  prefer.  You  know 
everything  there,  and  far  better  than  I  what's 
best  and  what  is  n't.  There  are  a  lot  of  differ- 
ences, but  are  n't  some  of  the  smaller  things  the 
most  remarkable  ?  I  mean  for  judges,  and  for 
what  they  'd  bring.  What  I  want  you  to  take 
from  me,  and  to  choose  for  yourself,  is  the  thing 
in  the  whole  house  that 's  most  beautiful  and 
precious.  I  mean  the  '  gem  of  the  collection/ 
don't  you  know  ?  If  it  happens  to  be  of  such  a 
sort  that  you  can  take  immediate  possession  of 
it  —  carry  it  right  away  with  you  —  so  much  the 
better.  You  're  to  have  it  on  the  spot,  whatever 
it  is.  I  humbly  beg  of  you  to  go  down  there  and 
see.  The  people  have  complete  instructions : 
they  '11  act  for  you  in  every  possible  way  and  put 
the  whole  place  at  your  service.  There 's  a  thing 
mamma  used  to  call  the  Maltese  cross  and  that  I 
think  I  Ve  heard  her  say  is  very  wonderful.  Is 
that  the  gem  of  the  collection  ?  Perhaps  you 
would  take  it,  or  anything  equally  convenient. 
Only  I  do  want  you  awfully  to  let  it  be  the  very 
pick  of  the  place.  Let  me  feel  that  I  can  trust 
you  for  this.  You  won't  refuse  if  you  will  think 
a  little  what  it  must  be  that  makes  me  ask." 

Fleda  read  that  last  sentence  over  more  times 
even  than  the  rest ;  she  was  baffled  —  she  could  n't 
think  at  all  of  what  it  might  be.  This  was  indeed 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  315 

because  it  might  be  one  of  so  many  things.  She 
made  for  the  present  no  answer;  she  merely, 
little  by  little,  fashioned  for  herself  the  form  that 
her  answer  should  eventually  wear.  There  was 
only  one  form  that  was  possible  —  the  form  of 
doing,  at  her  time,  what  he  wished.  She  would 
go  down  to  Poynton  as  a  pilgrim  might  go  to  a 
shrine,  and  as  to  this  she  must  look  out  for  her 
chance.  She  lived  with  her  letter,  before  any 
chance  came,  a  month,  and  even  after  a  month  it 
had  mysteries  for  her  that  she  couldn't  meet. 
What  did  it  mean,  what  did  it  represent,  to  what 
did  it  correspond  in  his  imagination  or  his  soul  ? 
What  was  behind  it,  what  was  beyond  it,  what 
was,  in  the  deepest  depth,  within  it  ?  She  said  to 
herself  that  with  these  questions  she  was  under 
no  obligation  to  deal.  There  was  an  explanation 
of  them  that,  for  practical  purposes,  would  do  as 
well  as  another :  he  had  found  in  his  marriage  a 
happiness  so  much  greater  than,  in  the  distress 
of  his  dilemma,  he  had  been  able  to  take  heart  to 
believe,  that  he  now  felt  he  owed  her  a  token  of 
gratitude  for  having  kept  him  in  the  straight 
path.  That  explanation,  I  say,  she  could  throw 
off ;  but  no  explanation  in  the  least  mattered : 
what  determined  her  was  the  simple  strength  of 
her  impulse  to  respond.  The  passion  for  which 
what  had  happened  had  made  no  difference,  the 


3l6  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

passion  that  had  taken  this  into  account  before 
as  well  as  after,  found  here  an  issue  that  there 
was  nothing  whatever  to  choke.  It  found  even  a 
relief  to  which  her  imagination  immensely  con- 
tributed. Would  she  act  upon  his  offer  ?  She 
would  act  with  secret  rapture.  To  have  as  her 
own  something  splendid  that  he  had  given  her, 
of  which  the  gift  had  been  his  signed  desire, 
would  be  a  greater  joy  than  the  greatest  she  had 
supposed  to  be  left  to  her,  and  she  felt  that  till 
the  sense  of  this  came  home  she  had  even  herself 
not  known  what  burned  in  her  successful  still- 
ness. It  was  an  hour  to  dream  of  and  watch  for  ; 
to  be  patient  was  to  draw  out  the  sweetness.  She 
was  capable  of  feeling  it  as  an  hour  of  triumph, 
the  triumph  of  everything  in  her  recent  life  that 
had  not  held  up  its  head.  She  moved  there  in 
thought  —  in  the  great  rooms  she  knew ;  she 
should  be  able  to  say  to  herself  that,  for  once  at 
least,  her  possession  was  as  complete  as  that  of 
either  of  the  others  whom  it  had  filled  only  with 
bitterness.  And  a  thousand  times  yes  —  her 
choice  should  know  no  scruple :  the  thing  she 
should  go  down  to  take  would  be  up  to  the  height 
of  her  privilege.  The  whole  place  was  in  her 
eyes,  and  she  spent  for  weeks  her  private  hours 
in  a  luxury  of  comparison  and  debate.  It  should 
be  one  of  the  smallest  things  because  it  should 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  317 

be  one  she  could  have  close  to  her ;  and  it  should 
be  one  of  the  finest  because  it  was  in  the  finest 
he  saw  his  symbol.  She  said  to  herself  that  of 
what  it  would  symbolize  she  was  content  to  know 
nothing  more  than  just  what  her  having  it  would 
tell  her.  At  bottom  she  inclined  to  the  Maltese 
cross  —  with  the  added  reason  that  he  had  named 
it.  But  she  would  look  again  and  judge  afresh  ; 
she  would  on  the  spot  so  handle  and  ponder  that 
there  should  n't  be  the  shade  of  a  mistake. 

Before  Christmas  she  had  a  natural  opportu- 
nity to  go  to  London  ;  there  was  her  periodical 
call  upon  her  father  to  pay  as  well  as  a  promise 
to  Maggie  to  redeem.  She  spent  her  first  night 
in  West  Kensington,  with  the  idea  of  carrying 
out  on  the  morrow  the  purpose  that  had  most  of 
a  motive.  Her  father's  affection  was  not  inquisi- 
tive, but  when  she  mentioned  to  him  that  she 
had  business  in  the  country  that  would  oblige 
her  to  catch  an  early  train,  he  deprecated  her 
excursion  in  view  of  the  menace  of  the  weather. 
It  was  spoiling  for  a  storm  ;  all  the  signs  of  a 
winter  gale  were  in  the  air.  She  replied  that  she 
would  see  what  the  morning  might  bring  ;  and  it 
brought,  in  fact,  what  seemed  in  London  an 
amendment.  She  was  to  go  to  Maggie  the  next 
day,  and  now  that  she  had  started  her  eagerness 
had  become  suddenly  a  pain.  She  pictured  her 


3l8  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

return  that  evening  with  her  trophy  under  her 
cloak ;  so  that  after  looking,  from  the  doorstep, 
up  and  down  the  dark  street,  she  decided,  with  a 
new  nervousness,  and  sallied  forth  to  the  nearest 
place  of  access  to  the  "  Underground."  The 
December  dawn  was  dolorous,  but  there  was 
neither  rain  nor  snow ;  it  was  not  even  cold,  and 
the  atmosphere  of  West  Kensington,  purified  by 
the  wind,  was  like  a  dirty  old  coat  that  had  been 
bettered  by  a  dirty  brush.  At  the  end  of  almost 
an  hour,  in  the  larger  station,  she  had  taken  her 
place  in  a  third-class  compartment ;  the  prospect 
before  her  was  the  run  of  eighty  minutes  to 
Poynton.  The  train  was  a  fast  one,  and  she  was 
familiar  with  the  moderate  measure  of  the  walk 
to  the  park  from  the  spot  at  which  it  would  drop 
her. 

Once  in  the  country,  indeed,  she  saw  that  her 
father  was  right :  the  breath  of  December  was 
abroad  with  a  force  from  which  the  London 
labyrinth  had  protected  her.  The  green  fields 
were  black,  the  sky  was  all  alive  with  the  wind ; 
she  had,  in  her  anxious  sense  of  the  elements, 
her  wonder  at  what  might  happen,  a  reminder  of 
the  surmises,  in  the  old  days  of  going  to  the 
Continent,  that  used  to  worry  her  on  the  way,  at 
night,  to  the  horrid  cheap  crossings  by  long  sea. 
Something,  in  a  dire  degree,  at  this  last  hour,  had 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  319 

begun  to  press  on  her  heart :  it  was  the  sudden 
imagination  of  a  disaster,  or  at  least  of  a  check, 
before  her  errand  was  achieved.  When  she  said 
to  herself  that  something  might  happen  she 
wanted  to  go  faster  than  the  train.  But  nothing 
could  happen  save  a  dismayed  discovery  that,  by 
some  altogether  unlikely  chance,  the  master  and 
mistress  of  the  house  had  already  come  back.  In 
that  case  she  must  have  had  a  warning,  and  the 
fear  was  but  the  excess  of  her  hope.  It  was 
every  one's  being  exactly  where  every  one  was 
that  lent  the  quality  to  her  visit.  Beyond  lands 
and  seas  and  alienated  forever,  they  in  their 
different  ways  gave  her  the  impression  to  take  as 
she  had  never  taken  it.  At  last  it  was  already 
there,  though  the  darkness  of  the  day  had  deep- 
ened ;  they  had  whizzed  past  Chater  —  Chater, 
which  was  the  station  before  the  right  one.  Off 
in  that  quarter  was  an  air  of  wild  rain,  but  there 
shimmered  straight  across  it  a  brightness  that 
was  the  color  of  the  great  interior  she  had  been 
haunting.  That  vision  settled  before  her  —  in 
the  house  the  house  was  all ;  and  as  the  train 
drew  up  she  rose,  in  her  mean  compartment, 
quite  proudly  erect  with  the  thought  that  all  for 
Fleda  Vetch  then  the  house  was  standing  there. 

But  with  the  opening  of  the  door  she  encoun- 
tered a  shock,  though  for  an  instant  she  could  n't 


320  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

have  named  it ;  the  next  moment  she  saw  it  was 
given  her  by  the  face  of  the  man  advancing  to 
let  her  out,  an  old  lame  porter  of  the  station,  who 
had  been  there  in  Mrs.  Gereth's  time  and  who 
now  recognized  her.  He  looked  up  at  her  so 
hard  that  she  took  an  alarm  and  before  alighting 
broke  out  to  him  :  "They've  come  back?"  She 
had  a  confused,  absurd  sense  that  even  he  would 
know  that  in  this  case  she  must  n't  be  there. 
He  hesitated,  and  in  the  few  seconds  her  alarm 
had  completely  changed  its  ground  :  it  seemed  to 
leap,  with  her  quick  jump  from  the  carriage,  to 
the  ground  that  was  that  of  his  stare  at  her. 
"  Smoke  ? "  She  was  on  the  platform  with  her 
frightened  sniff:  it  had  taken  her  a  minute  to 
become  aware  of  an  extraordinary  smell.  The 
air  was  full  of  it,  and  there  were  already  heads  at 
the  window  of  the  train,  looking  out  at  something 
she  could  n't  see.  Some  one,  the  only  other 
passenger,  had  got  out  of  another  carriage,  and 
the  old  porter  hobbled  off  to  close  his  door. 
The  smoke  was  in  her  eyes,  but  she  saw  the 
station-master,  from  the  end  of  the  platform, 
recognize  her  too  and  come  straight  to  her. 
He  brought  her  a  finer  shade  of  surprise  than 
the  porter,  and  while  he  was  coming  she  heard  a 
voice  at  a  window  of  the  train  say  that  something 
was  "a  good  bit  off  —  a  mile  from  the  town." 


THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON  $21 

That  was  just  what  Poynton  was.  Then  her 
heart  stood  still  at  the  white  wonder  in  the 
station-master's  face. 

"  You  Ve  come  down  to  it,  miss,  already  ?  " 
At  this  she  knew.     "  Poynton  's  on  fire  ? " 
"  Gone,    miss  —  with   this   awful   gale.      You 
were  n't  wired  ?     Look  out ! "   he   cried   in  the 
next  breath,  seizing  her ;  the  train  was  going  on, 
and  she  had  given  a  lurch  that  almost  made  it 
catch  her  as  it  passed.    When  it  had  drawn  away 
she   became   more   conscious   of    the  pervading 
smoke,  which  the  wind  seemed  to  hurl   in  her 
face. 

"  Gone  ?  "  She  was  in  the  man's  hands  ;  she 
clung  to  him. 

"  Burning  still,  miss.  Ain't  it  quite  too  dread- 
ful ?  Took  early  this  morning  —  the  whole  place 
is  up  there." 

In  her  bewildered  horror  she  tried  to  think. 
"  Have  they  come  back  ? " 

"  Back  ?     They  '11  be  there  all  day !  " 
"  Not  Mr.  Gereth,  I  mean  —  nor  his  wife  ? " 
"  Nor  his  mother,  miss  —  not  a  soul  of  them 
back.     A  pack  o'  servants  in  charge  —  not  the 
old  lady's  lot,  eh  ?    A  nice  job  for  care-takers  ! 
Some  rotten  chimley  or  one  of   them  portable 
lamps  set  down  in  the  wrong  place.     What  has 
done  it  is  this  cruel,  cruel  night."     Then  as  a 


322  THE  SPOILS  OF  POYNTON 

great  wave  of  smoke  half  choked  them,  he  drew 
her  with  force  to  the  little  waiting  room.  "  Awk- 
ward for  you,  miss  —  I  see  !  " 

She  felt  sick  ;  she  sank  upon  a  seat,  staring  up 
at  him.  "Do  you  mean  that  great  house  is 
lost?" 

"  It  was  near  it,  I  was  told,  an  hour  ago  —  the 
fury  of  the  flames  had  got  such  a  start.  I  was 
there  myself  at  six,  the  very  first  I  heard  of  it. 
They  were  fighting  it  then,  but  you  could  n't 
quite  say  they  had  got  it  down. 

Fleda  jerked  herself  up.  "Were  they  saving 
the  things  ? " 

"  That 's  just  where  it  was,  miss  —  to  get  at  the 
blessed  things.  And  the  want  of  right  help  —  it 
maddened  me  to  stand  and  see  'em  muff  it.  This 
ain't  a  place,  like,  for  anything  organized.  They 
don't  come  up  to  a  reel  emergency." 

She  passed  out  of  the  door  that  opened  toward 
the  village  and  met  a  great  acrid  gust.  She  heard 
a  far-off  windy  roar  which,  in  her  dismay,  she 
took  for  that  of  flames  a  mile  away,  and  which, 
the  first  instant,  acted  upon  her  as  a  wild  solicita- 
tion. "I  must  go  there."  She  had  scarcely 
spoken  before  the  same  omen  had  changed  into 
an  appalling  check. 

Her  vivid  friend,  moreover,  had  got  before  her  ; 
he  clearly  suffered  from  the  nature  of  the  control 


THE  SPOILS   OF  POYNTON  323 

he  had  to  exercise.  "Don't  do  that,  miss  —  you 
won't  care  for  it  at  all."  Then  as  she  waveringly 
stood  her  ground,  "  It 's  not  a  place  for  a  young 
lady,  nor,  if  you  '11  believe  me,  a  sight  for  them 
as  are  in  any  way  affected." 

Fleda  by  this  time  knew  in  what  way  she  was 
affected :  she  became  limp  and  weak  again ;  she 
felt  herself  give  everything  up.  Mixed  with  the 
horror,  with  the  kindness  of  the  station-master, 
with  the  smell  of  cinders  and  the  riot  of  sound, 
was  the  raw  bitterness  of  a  hope  that  she  might 
never  again  in  life  have  to  give  up  so  much  at 
such  short  notice.  She  heard  herself  repeat 
mechanically,  yet  as  if  asking  it  for  the  first 
time :  "  Poynton  's  gone  ?  " 

The  man  hesitated.  "  What  can  you  call  it, 
miss,  if  it  ain't  really  saved  ? " 

A  minute  later  she  had  returned  with  him  to 
the  waiting-room,  where,  in  the  thick  swim  of 
things,  she  saw  something  like  the  disk  of  a  clock. 
"  Is  there  an  up-train  ? "  she  asked. 

"  In  seven  minutes." 

She  came  out  on  the  platform :  everywhere  she 
met  the  smoke.  She  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands.  "  I  '11  go  back." 


THE  UNIVERSITY  '' 
UNIVERSITY  Of  s.ALIFORN;,- 


l/    CLJ2 


This  book  is  due  on  the  last  DATE  stamped  below. 


JUL  1  6  1969 


7 


FEB  1  8  19 


MAYS    1971 

MAY  5 


2  6  1972 
JUL  2  6 


MAY  U  76 


100m-8,'65(F6282s8)2373 


MAY  1  7  RECTO 
MAY  17  '77 

MAY  1  3'ftEC'D 

MAR  3   78  - 


4  1978  REC'O 

JAN  23  79 

FEB20  1979  REC'O 
RESERVES 

SEP  z 


